


String Theory

by KaranSeraph



Series: Memory [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alien Robot Contraceptive Device, Bondage, Cyber Pheromones, Fraternization, M/M, Multi, My Consort Has a Sub-Consort, Physics, Robot Feels, Robot Sex, Seeker Courtship, Spark Sex, Sparklings, Your Dubious Consent is Alien Culture's Acceptable Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaranSeraph/pseuds/KaranSeraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a (loose) sequel to Starscream Memory, Thundercracker and Skywarp are high-ranking Decepticons in command of a small fleet; with a mission to find a safe place to increase the numbers of their dwindling faction, but their codes are incompatible unless they find a third. Barricade fails at trying to go unnoticed by his superior officers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally inspired by a prompts on the tf rare pairing LJ community:  
> “Thundercracker/Skywarp – 'Christmas light bondage.'”  
> “ Barricade/Skywarp – 'Tell me that you love me – or just let me go.'”  
> “Barricade/Skywarp—'Touch me.'”
> 
> When I had to write five pages of build-up to understand for myself where the characters were presently at, and what their motivations were, before getting to anything near the prompt, I knew I was going to miss the deadline for the lj comm.

The Lycoris dropped into space-time from the transcendent state of transwarp and was skillfully piloted into orbit about the blue-green gas giant designated Neptune. The fleet's ultimate destination was the inner planets of the Solar System, but here they would rendezvous with those ships less capable than their current flagship, before continuing at sub-light speeds. Though Skywarp – newly-promoted to Vice-Admiral and in command of space operations – had insisted he could make the calculations to put the Leader class starship directly into Earth orbit, Thundercracker had vetoed such an attempt.

Skywarp had, privately of course, and not in front of their subordinates, seemed a little irked by this decision. Thundercracker knew him so well that he was certain Skywarp was feeling he had somehow lost Thundercracker's confidence. This was not so. Thundercracker had gone so far as to give the face-saving rationalization that it required near as much skill just putting them inside the Oort Cloud and there were tactical reasons to rendezvous in the outer system. It was possibly that Skywarp was offended simply because Thundercracker had contradicted him in what he considered a space-related decision, and his post being so new, Skywarp was particularly defensive about it.

It could not be helped, Thundercracker thought. He was their leader. Slipstream was Air Commander, Vortex nominally in charge of calvary and ground support, Scalpel their Chief Medical Officer, and so on. It was his duty to weigh the issues and make the executive decisions. Skywarp still having the title of Second-in-Command meant that he was often consulted in making these decisions; but Thundercracker would dishonor them all if he gave Skywarp's arguments or space operations undue weight. Despite what some rudely speculated, Skywarp had not earned any of his titles by being cutest or recharging near their leader – it was still secret that Skywarp was Thundercracker's consort – he had earned them. Skywarp had proven again and again that he could face his fears when it was necessary.

Maybe Skywarp was offended because the suggestion to transwarp directly to Earth was not a cowardly one, and his obvious courage had been dismissed.

Thundercracker could not allow himself any more time wondering about Skywarp or how he was going to sooth his flustered partner this time. They were not alone on the fringes of Autobot space, now. They were recognized leaders among the Decepticon faction and charged with an important mission to lead their youngest and most breed-capable to a place of safety where they might increase the numbers of their dwindling faction. There was a time when Thundercracker would have assumed his place was on the front lines, but he understood the critical nature of this mission and that someone as supremely capable as he was uniquely suited to lead it.

Thundercracker entered the engine room where Overcast was on duty. There was some redundancy in their science and engineering teams since their exodus from New Kaon, and Thundercracker suspected the Rainmaker would rather be tinkering with his experimental devices, but Dirge had already been on their team first and made himself head of such research and development. Once the Seekers reached Earth, Overcast would have other duties; they all would. For the time being, the customized stardrive aboard the Lycoris had become Overcast's primary responsibility.

It was a feature of this customized drive that necessitated their stopping in the outer planets. When not generating fields and power for transwarp, the stardrive and the Heart of Cybertron that was catalyst for its reactions could be employed to generate a spacebridge.

Thundercracker continued into the antechamber, outside the drive chamber, where the spacebridge's transwarp bubble would be generated. Skywarp was there, though he did not give Thundercracker more than a glance. His presence could not be avoided, as currently Skywarp was the only one fully capable of operating this small, mobile, Decepticon-built spacebridge, and the only one they knew of, anywhere, who could hi-jack the spacebridge network, and allow their side travel without Autobot-generated destination codes. It was a lot of responsibility to put on Skywarp – especially considering he already had command positions – but the AllSpark had not seen fit to gift anyone else with a internal transwarp navigation system and the prodigious mathematical processing ability required to make it work within tolerable margin of error.

Barricade was the next closest candidate they had found, but Thundercracker did not want to think about that right now.

Slipstream entered the antechamber, followed by Starscream. They were the only personnel assigned to this away mission. Slipstream was to go, mainly because her tenuous rapport with Sari Sumdac gave her the best chance of emerging through the only remaining Earth spacebridge unchallenged; it was located at the top of Sumdac Tower in Detroit. Thundercracker doubted anyone there would be so complacent when they saw Starscream was not as dead as the last time he had been in Detroit, given his history of shattering their electronic and robotic-dependant infrastructure with nullrays, and unleashing all kinds of bombs in their city. Presumably their scout mission would rely on logic and charm to get past the Sumdacs, Slipstream's ability to hack Earth systems, and then on skill at outwitting or out flying the United States Air Force.

Mad as it seemed now, Thundercracker had agreed with the tactical value of the mission when Starscream, with his fluid rank and titles, had presented it to him in full. Thundercracker had also seen the impact this particular mission might have on morale, which Ramjet, in his role of Morale Officer, had later supported. Starscream was more than just Starscream the mech to many of their followers. He was a symbol, to the Seekers as a veritable Prince of their kind, and to the Decepticons at large as one who unfailingly fought for their cause, even to the point of challenging his own commander if he should seem to stray from the true path. They followed Thundercracker's orders, and he made the real decisions, but they called Starscream their Liege. Figurehead that he was – knowingly and willingly – Starscream had to be perceived as succeeding in their goals and furthering their cause. 

No one had expected Starscream and Slipstream to go so long without finding a worthy third. They had not lacked for challengers or courtiers in New Kaon, but Starscream was so great in his reputation – and in his own processor – that mere worthiness was now seeming an impossible standard to meet. It was some kind of miracle, if one believed in such, that he had even settled on Slipstream. Of course, the masses believed she was some kind of priestess to the AllSpark, to have instigated Starscream's resurrection, and was thus more than worthy to be mere Starscream's mate. Thundercracker was concerned, as were Sunstorm and Ramjet, who understood the effect on morale and the threat of mob mentality and the perception of the masses. Thundercracker was in a similar situation, but healthy ego that he had, he could not help but be thankful, in this case, that Starscream drew enough attention from him to make his own reputation seemingly flawless.

It was good the couple were leaving on this mission. Ramjet and Sunstorm would do their part to spin their absence into some grand quest. For all Thundercracker knew, they might actually find their third, like a mech in an icy crypt from a sparkling recharge tale. Stranger things had happened. Megatron had been found after 50 years in a human lab on Earth. Thunderblast and her compatriots had literally been encased in ice on Earth in its past, later freed from their stasis, and able to return to the Decepticons with their tale.

In some ways, Starscream going away made things easier for Thundercracker. He did not have to pretend he consulted their liege on matters, for one. But, then, he truly feared losing Starscream. He had been the one to decide that the resurrected Starscream was not going to settle for a subordinate position, and yet must not be allowed to disrupt the order and chain of command they had established, and so they must call Starscream Liege and set him up as their Lord. He had also been the one to decide that Starscream's particular body of scientific knowledge and experience was crucial to overcoming the problem of their dwindling numbers, and that his knowledge of mechology and chemistry would best qualify Starscream to cultivate and tend protoforms, and so Starscream must be protected.

They were never going to admit it aloud to each other, but Starscream and Thundercracker needed each other, and the Decepticons needed them both. Just as, similarly unacknowledged, they really did need Megatron back in New Kaon, with his renewed vigor and purpose as a freedom fighter, defending against the encroaching Cybertronian Empire. If they were to survive, the Decepticons needed to time to increase their numbers. They needed to believe the main battle was being drawn to their brave, strong front-line fighters, while their young were safe. The front-liners needed to believe they had an enemy to face, and a cause to protect. Those who had made the exodus needed to believe their task was no less vital or brave; they took it as something alike a sacred duty.

That Thundercracker was their leader and had not publicly courted another or acknowledged any as his mate – though many found it suspiciously unconventional that his 2IC was so close – and had not announced he or a mate was carrying a newspark, did not inspire the confidence Thundercracker wished. He had battled his own ego over this for some time. He knew he had assets. His careful consideration, brilliant strategy, strength and leadership had gotten them this far. He knew his arrogance sometimes got the best of him; he had studied Starscream and his past failings repeatedly, analyzing every mistake. Thundercracker could not often manage modesty, but he had gained wisdom. His wisdom said that leading by example did not always mean doing the same actions as one subordinates, but demonstrating the general traits and attitude that subordinates should aim to have.

If Starscream would find his third, then all attention would be on whether he was breeding. But without that third, and traveling on an away mission, there was a chance Thundercracker would come under scrutiny again.

Though there was some unease between them now, Thundercracker trusted it was temporary. Skywarp was his, forever, his second-in-command, his most loyal and most dear subordinate, his beloved, his consort, his love – his only love. And, they were physically incompatible as mates.

They had both known for some time now. It was probably because they were cloned from the same template. They would never breed successfully without a third.

Thundercracker had, despite his arrogance and ego, which had been all the more rampant back then, been able to consider someone else worthy of his attention the first time he had, unintentionally, done something to make the coward smile. Maybe, at first, it had been about wanting that smile to feed his ego. But, Thundercracker had known soon after that Skywarp was special to him. He was worthy. But even loving Skywarp, Thundercracker had not been at ease with the idea of breeding, with anyone.

He was privileged to information on just how their numbers had begun to dwindle. He had recalled from Starscream's implanted memory visions of life aboard war-time or refugee warships: sparklings wasting away and newsparks unable to be sustained, due both to lack of energy and inability of leaders in that time to value Decepticons who were not yet able to fight. Thundercracker had dreaded the very concept of breeding.

Until he got overcharged at the reception celebrating Ramjet's bonding with Red Alert, lost his remaining inhibition, and kissed Skywarp in the corridor.

It had been awful, to realize in the very moment that desire was expressed that their codes were insufficient. For him, Thundercracker, usually so confident, to need to work up courage just to take sample of his intended with his mouth, and then learn in the resulting chemical analysis that they lacked the necessary diversity for a viable conception had been devastating.

They had not recharged together that night. Thundercracker had spent the remainder of that local solar cycle in his washroom, as if cleaning again would help. He had never asked, but he suspected Skywarp had spent his night slumped in the hall. Next they had seen each other, Skywarp had been relaying the account of which of Thundercracker's team Starscream had spirited away without authorization.

That part had turned out well enough, as it had led to Starscream being able to successfully cultivate new protoforms out at Overcast's research facility, but otherwise...things had not been all right with Thundercracker and Skywarp since then. They had gone back to recharging in the same berth. They supported each other in command decisions, or offered criticism over private comms. They played games as was their habit – everything from tic-tac-toe to role-playing a certain other Decepticon leader and his 2IC. But, there had been more stresses, especially after Jhiaxus returned to the area and they learned what had happened with Megatron, Shockwave and other Decepticons who had been prisoners of the Autobot's on Cybertron.

They used to touch each other, without question. Now, even if Skywarp shared his berth, he only arrived just before he intended to go into stasis. If Thundercracker asked where he had just been the answer was usually, “with Barricade.” And if Thundercracker pressed and asked what they did, Skywarp replied, “we just talk about physics.”

Thundercracker felt he must do something to repair the relationship. He wanted to see that smile again. Yes, his ego would feel better knowing he had made Skywarp smile, but even if he alone could not bring the smile, or if he could not do it at all, he still wanted to know that Skywarp could smile again.

Now, Thundercracker watched Starscream hop lightly into the visible bubble of energy suspended within the spacebridge containment frame. The conversation that had just taken place: passed through his audio receptors, processed subconsciously and stored in memory. He was alone with Skywarp in the small antechamber. There was a charged feel to the air, and a scent, that he usually associated with Skywarp.

“'Warp.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“I have told you, when we are alone-”

“What is it, Thundercracker?”

Thundercracker looked about the room, checking for surveillance. The Lycoris was Starscream's starship, as he had personally acquired it from its former owner, Jhiaxus; but he seemed to generally prefer to keep to his lab, so Skywarp and Thundercracker took shifts acting as commander, or left a capable pilot in charge. Still, Thundercracker's ego suffered at the realization he knew so little about the ship. He would have to study schematics. “We are alone here.”

Skywarp touched the console at which he had been working. “I just shut down interior surveillance. They can still monitor egress from the command deck...'Cid likely knows enough to reroute, if interested in monitoring, but I do not think he has motive to do so, Sir.”

“Good enough. I only-” Thundercracker hesitated. He took a step in toward Skywarp. He saw Skywarp raise his faceplate to regard him, then lean back slightly, maybe subconsciously. “Your service remains exemplary,” Thundercracker said.

Skywarp nodded. His lip plates shifted, as if to speak, but he produced no sound. His optics appeared dimly lit.

Thundercracker had not said what Skywarp most needed to hear. “We both have the next shift off.”

“I will meet you in our quarters,” Skywarp replied quickly, maybe automatically.

“Is that what you want?” Thundercracker asked.

“What else do you think I could want?”

That was an excellent question. “I do not know. Do you want something else?”

At this, Skywarp suddenly looked panicked; his wings quivered, his optics flared, and he drew his arms in close to his cockpit canopy. Thundercracker had been and was still proud of how Skywarp had overcome so many fears, but he knew Skywarp was still prone to occasional attacks of panic or anxiety. “No!” Skywarp said loudly, “D-d-do you wa-want s-something else?”

Thundercracker stepped forward again. He was close enough then, and put his arms to Skywarp to hold him in his embrace. He did not speak. Skywarp leaned into him. Thundercracker could feel their spark fields merging. He recalled the first and only time he had glimpse Skywarp's spark: when Slipstream made her deal with the AllSpark to get Starscream's old spark, and they had surrendered their shards in order to have normal sparks. Just a glimpse. He had politely averted his gaze, but not before the vision was burned to memory. Brilliant, cool, like a color that came after purple, it was so on the extreme of his visible spectrum.

Had they somehow kept distance all this time? Thundercracker could not recall when they had been pressed so close, even in recharge they had not, at least not since that solitary kiss.

Their sparks spoke of longing, love, fear and sadness. There was not, Thundercracker realized, one who felt longing, and another fear. Their feelings were the same, each experiencing the same mixture; the same turmoil.

Thundercracker did not want something else, but that was the problem. “I want you to smile,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Skywarp sat at a workstation in the small office beside the command deck, but he found it difficult to concentrate on his work. Now he had seen Starscream and Slipstream off on their scouting mission to Earth, most of his tasks were administrative. They were to rendezvous with the Voyager class starships Cocytus and Acheron, under Captains Buzzsaw and Smokejumper, and then continue toward the inner planets. The plan called for the crew of the Cocytus, led by Ravage, to set-up a new base of operations on Mars. The Acheron was to land on Luna, and its crew to set up a forward operations base for future deployments to Earth. The Lycoris itself would be positioned at the Lagrange point on the side of Luna opposite Earth, with the Scout class ship Lethe, currently within its hold, as well as the Acheron, shuttling troops as needed.

Why they didn't go directly to Earth, Skywarp didn't understand, but it probably had to do with Starscream's mission. Stopping in the outer planets meant the spacebridge could be activated as soon as they were within the Solar System, but not before the Earthlings had a chance to detect and track their vessel. The small team of two passing through Detroit would go largely unnoticed, as Cybertronians had already been known to operate in its area. Activating full dampening and stealth technology, Starscream and Slipstream would most likely succeed in contacting any Decepticons remaining on Earth, while generating no positive contacts other than a few UFO sightings. The humans would know the ships were entering the system, but with the spacebridge accessible so long as the Lycoris remained at sub-light, and the receiving bridge in Detroit was intact, they could have several cells operating on Earth before the primitive Earth craft could engage their starships.

It was probably a better plan than Skywarp had admitted to the others. The ships were a distraction from their main goal, which was getting enough Seekers deployed to Earth to properly scout for humans who could be manipulated into an alliance. The humans outnumbered them on Earth, so stealth was necessary there, if they wanted to acquire resources or supplies, but it was not likely the humans could take Luna or Mars once they gained a foothold.

Skywarp admitted to himself that he needed to remember not to underestimate the potential threat of the humans on Earth, or their current data gathering abilities.

A quiet ping drew Skywarp's attention to the workstation. Acid Storm commed from the communications station in the command area. “Contact with the Cocytus,” Acid Storm reported, “They request assistance in confirming local stellar cartography for the calculations for their next jump.”

“Understood. I'll assign Thrust.” The smaller ships could not support the same level of transwarp technology and so multiple short jumps were employed, rather than navigation of a vessel in a transcendent state. Skywarp left the office and walked across the command deck to the navigation station.

“Sir?” Thrust said. His tone wasn't respectful as it should be, but they were all still working on getting Thrust to acknowledge that he was now a member of their team, and that it was he who had to earn back the respect of his fellow Decepticons. He was not hand-selected for the mission, but one they had gotten stuck with in the small chaos of their exodus.

“Report to the astrometric lab to assist the Cocytus with confirming local stellar cartography. I will relieve you, here.”

“Navigation is yours, Sir,” Thrust said. He rose and walked for the exit.

“I am so sorry to see him leave,” Ramjet warbled from his post at the weapons station.

“But he finds you so intriguing,” Skywarp said mockingly as he took his seat.

“Just because I look like some long-deactivated Seeker with the same name!”

“You all bear some vague resemblance to Seekers that existed before,” Barricade said smartly from the pilot's seat beside Skywarp. “Except Sunstorm, I understand; that designation is specific to the clone.”

“And Slipstream doesn't so much share resemblance as a designation,” Skywarp added. He risked a glance at Barricade. He had been upset with Skywarp recently. Barricade appeared to be looking at his console, but Skywarp could see the play of light on the internal lenses of his optics and knew the upper lenses of Barricade's uncommon dual optics were looking toward him.

Skywarp could not imagine how Barricade's processor interpreted his vision, but he knew Barricade could gaze into another's optics and still be watching the door. Maybe they were designed to aid Enforcer work, so Barricade could look down at a datapad loaded with evidence or reports and still focus entirely on the one he was meant to interrogate. Still, dual optics seemed well suited to generally sneaking around. 

Skywarp liked sneaky things, right after Thundercracker, cute things, and games.

Skywarp focused on his station. He was qualified to tend any of the bridge stations, but on this voyage, he had usually been in the command chair, if not the pilot station, where Barricade now sat, pretending not to be bored out of his processor. They were in a stable orbit, about a known planet, with no known enemies in the this part of the system. Acid Storm might receive an incoming comm from another ship in their fleet, or from Slipstream, but otherwise there was not much to do this shift but monitor for changes.

Thrust had left the console focused on Saturn and its natural satellites, which had been his recent base of operations, but had little, if anything, to do with their current assignment. This might warrant some later discipline. Skywarp wrote himself a reminder to take up the matter with Thrust. When he had to handle discipline, Skywarp prepared by asking himself: “What would Starscream do?”. It would do no good to cower in front of subordinates.

Skywarp shifted in his seat as he refocused the sensors and console on Neptune. He disliked the warmth the seat retained from the last mechanism. It was not scary, just slightly creepy, like a strange mech getting too close.

“Is the Navigator's seat not to your liking, Skywarp?” Thundercracker asked.

Skywarp turned and looked over his right shoulder and wing. Thundercracker was absolutely resplendent in the raised command chair. He took care with his appearance, but even more than the rest of the Seeker clones he put effort into looking different; the swords and helm were trophies from others he had defeated, and he had reprogrammed his nanites to maintain a chin stripe to decorate his faceplate. But, sitting there with steepled claws was suspiciously like role-playing Megatron.

“Nothing wrong with the chair, Sir,” Skywarp reported.

“I thought you might prefer the pilot's seat,” Thundercracker suggested.

Skywarp looked toward Barricade.

“What's his angle?” Barricade muttered.

Skywarp smirked and turned over his shoulder again, “I was thinking more command, Sir.” 

“Of course, My Dear Vice-Admiral,” Thundercracker said. He stood and retrieved a sword, which he had lain across the arm of the command chair. “But I actually do need to borrow Barricade for a few kliks to discuss tactics, before the end of his shift. I am confident you can multi-task...or delegate.”

Skywarp wondered what Thundercracker really meant to speak to Barricade about. “I will do my best, Sir.”

“Barricade, with me,” Thundercracker said as he walked past, toward the office.

“Helm is yours,” Barricade notified Skywarp. Then, he commed privately, 'Something happen in the engine room?'

'Nothing you need to know.'

Thundercracker waited for Barricade in the office. The both of them glanced back at Skywarp as the door closed.

“You are so in the clear,” Ramjet snarked.

“There is nothing going on,” Skywarp hissed.

“Yeah you don't love Thundercracker and Barricade doesn't think you look like a valuable ally and Thundercracker hasn't figured out someone else is likely to get physical with you before he gets around to it.”

Ramjet was completely out of line, if Skywarp considered him addressing his commanding officer while on duty, but he was also Skywarp's older brother. “Do not show such flippant disregard for the reputation of those in your chain of command, and especially do not do so in front of other subordinates and while on duty!” Skywarp said, trying to think how Thundercracker or Starscream would handle the situation.

Ramjet laughed at him. “Please, like anything is not secret to 'Cid here?”

“I heard nothing,” Acid Storm called softly from his communications post.

Skywarp sighed and looked toward the shut office door. Acid Storm's primary function was intelligence gathering; he knew everything. But, Skywarp was not very concerned about that. He might have been anxious with another mech in 'Cid's place, but he knew very well that Acid Storm had some fierce and apparently genuine loyalty to Starscream. He pretended to share secrets and gossip, but his real secrets were kept strictly confidential and reported to Starscream only. That was fine, because Starscream had chaperoned Skywarp and Barricade and would vouch for them that they did nothing more than sit in the same room and talk about physics. 

What bothered Skywarp was that what Ramjet had suggested was true, from a certain point-of-view. He did love Thundercracker, even though he was very guarded about revealing the activities and emotions they shared, because that was Thundercracker's wish. He was well aware he would make a convenient friend for Barricade – such alliances were common among Decepticons. He had almost suggested Barricade as a team member himself, until circumstances had led Acid Storm to volunteer to join the mission, and Barricade had come along as one of Acid Storm's current subordinates. He knew Barricade could be as provocative as Ramjet, and other times as manipulative as Starscream, still Skywarp had been considering him as a potential third, even before Thundercracker had kissed him and confirmed their need.

Not that any of this mattered much now. As far as Skywarp understood, Barricade had made it clear he was no longer interested. Either that, or it was a rather twisted tactic in some manipulation to get what he really wanted, whatever that was. Barricade didn't want to be strung along as a mere potential third to a coupling Skywarp would not even confirm existed. He wanted to hear Skywarp confess some true, deep emotion for him. And manipulative and coy as Skywarp himself was, he was not going to lie to someone whose spark he was potentially going to merge with, so the lies could all unravel.

He could not tell anyone he loved them most of all, except Thundercracker. And if what he felt for Thundercracker was love, then nothing he felt for anyone else compared. He could not promise anyone it would be more than using them to conceive a newspark.

Scalpel said there was a way, a secret way he was not supposed to tell Skywarp about. Before Scalpel and Thunderblast had gotten back together – Skywarp had been surprised to learn they had previously courted – Skywarp had been considering Scalpel as a third. Sometimes Scalpel had recharged with them, settled inside Skywarp's cockpit. He had seemed he might be willing, and not made any demands. But after that night Thundercracker kissed Skywarp, and Scalpel had been with them, hidden in Skywarp's cockpit, Scalpel had become distant.

Skywarp had even suspected Thundercracker had scouted Thunderblast as a third, but that interest had been revealed to be entirely professional, and once Thundercracker approved her joining their team, she had gotten back together with Scalpel.

BB had been Skywarp's first consideration for a third, but in that case, it seemed BB had realized his own attraction to Skywarp had been based entirely on his resemblance to a past partner he had lost. BB was content now to work with the crew of the Acheron.

Skywarp suspected, based on what Scalpel had said and a few thing he had overheard Starscream say about sparks and protoform cultivation, that the secret other way involved some method of collecting and retaining another's spark energy for future use in conceiving a newspark. None of them had said such directly, but Skywarp feared this was something that certain mechanisms were equipped to do whether or not the one 'donating' spark energy consented. It would explain how Ravage and her own offspring had increased in number while Decepticons in general decreased: they were able to collect and store spark energy without relying on recognizable breeding activity or having any known partners.

Thundercracker would never agree to use such a method. He was just too honorable. Skywarp liked this about him, that his ego and need to prove himself superior had given him a strong personal code of honor. He was thoroughly Decepticon, but he would not bother to attack those who were compromised, unarmed, or weak. He would not cheat in a duel. He would not steal supplies if he had currency or goods to barter. He would defend his allies reputations, as well as give physical support in battle. He acknowledged when his subordinates performed exceptionally, and gave out just punishment when they performed badly. 

What were they talking about? Skywarp wanted to know. Maybe he needed to know. It was making him anxious and distracting him from duty.

“'Warp,” Ramjet called.

“Yeah?”

“Red wanted me to ask if you had any update on what season it will be on Earth when we arrive. You know, to get an idea of road conditions, with all the weather they have.”

“Give me a klik,” Skywarp said, glad for the distraction from his worry. He suspected Ramjet had provided the distraction on purpose, but then Ramjet was a lot kinder, at least to his own kin, than most would guess. Skywarp would not mind having some general estimate of the weather patterns they would be facing. Even their science could not accurately predict day to day surface conditions, but knowing the time of year and location on the planet would narrow possibilities significantly.

Skywarp used the nav console to check on the telemetry they were receiving from the Cocytus and Acheron, to estimate their arrival in Neptune's orbit. Then he checked the positions of the other planets in the system to calculate the best approach to the inner planets. There was some margin to account for in whether the Lycoris actually escorted the Cocytus to Mars, which personnel would be cleared to use the spacebridge, how many shuttle trips the Lethe would need to make.

“Best estimate is somewhere between the time they refer to as fourth and first quarter, the months of November through January. We should clear hurricane season in mid-Atlantic, but it will be winter in the northern hemisphere and summer in the south. We would not want to fly anywhere near the northern polar region they call the arctic.”

“This prince was really looking forward to an ice coffin,” Ramjet said sarcastically. “This place Italy, it's closer to the equator than the pole, right? Should be milder?”

Skywarp had to check the console for the surface maps of Earth. He knew where Japan was without a map, but was not so familiar with this Italy. “It looks like a bit of leg armor, with a little turbine heel! Cute. And, its southern tip is within 40 degrees of the equator, so not too cold.”

“Not that I expect preferential treatment, but Red would like some detailed scans of the most updated models of Italian-made sports cars.”

“Of course not,” Skywarp agreed. “It will most likely be up to Thundercracker to decide locations for any scouting missions or posts on Earth, but I might give him a few suggestions.” Then, only after he spoke, it occurred to Skywarp that Ramjet did have some basis for expecting preference. Ramjet and Red Alert were a bonded couple and had recently conceived. Skywarp had allowed himself to forget that Ramjet was carrying a newspark. And, now he thought of it, Acid Storm, on his other side, had also been carrying. 'Cid's newspark was almost ready to be transferred to a protoform. And Dirge's soon after that.

It made Skywarp feel so lacking in comparison. It must be worse for Thundercracker, he imagined. Skywarp did not dare share the information with others, but Thundercracker had been terrified of breeding for a while. Skywarp had needed to promise not to pressure him in order to remain close. He had taken Thundercracker's apparent nesting as a positive sign. And then, when they had celebrated Ramjet and Red Alert's bonding – which was not coincidentally around the time 'Cid and Dirge had conceived – and Thundercracker had tested their compatibility with a kiss, Skywarp had real hope. That had been quickly shattered.

Attempts to find a third had failed. Skywarp truly feared he would lose Thundercracker. What if Thundercracker's ego demanded he find a more compatible mate, to prove he was at least as capable, if not superior, to others, like Dirge. 

Or, Skywarp worried, when Thundercracker had confronted him in the engine room and replied that he did not want something else, only for Skywarp to smile, was that some wretchedly honorable way of saying he wanted Skywarp to forget about him and find someone else more compatible?

Skywarp looked anxiously at the office door. It was still shut. He thought about coming one of them, but he could not decide which.

“You need any assistance, Vice-Admiral?” Acid Storm asked pleasantly.

“Wh-why? D-do I look like I need assistance?”

“You don't need to relax,” Ramjet teased, “You should remain this tense so you can let your mood affect your work as much as possible.”

“I am not scared,” Skywarp said

“Did you know?” Acid Storm began, quietly, “Before Overcast and I conceived Drench, when Dreadwind was still online, we lost some little ones?”

Skywarp had known, because the memory was among those of Starscream's that had been pre-installed. Acid Storm's had previously had a trine: fully bonded service and spark. They should have been able to produce many Seeker offspring. But times had been hard on the Decepticons, and lack of energon and some poor management had caused conditions less than idea for sustaining newsparks or cultivating protoforms. Skywarp had never expected to hear Acid Storm speak of it, especially not in these circumstances. Had Ramjet also known? “I know.”

“No matter which of us attempted to carry, the loss was devastating for all, every time. Even if the leadership had not eventually discouraged all breeding and emotional bonds, we would have just stopped.”

Skywarp could not say that that fear of loss was why Thundercracker shied from any activity that might have led to breeding. Others expected him to be the coward, not Thundercracker. “I understand.”

“But avoiding expressing our emotions or showing physical affection hurt our relationship. Even with the bond, we did not fly together as well. We did not work well together. Sometimes we could not even talk.”

“But, it got better?”

“Honestly, it took losing one mate for Overcast and I to try again. I was...somewhat unstable when we first conceived Drench. I am grateful, now, we had resources enough in New Kaon.”

“Drench is awesome! So cute!”

Acid Storm laughed. “Thank You. I think he is a terror, but without him, Overcast and I would not have even tried to conceived another, and we would not be part of this mission.”

“Yes?”

Acid Storm smirked, “If Thundercracker is yours, then you need to be physically affectionate. And if you have some reason – you need not tell me – that you cannot breed right now, there are ways to ease the tension between you while avoiding that.”

Ramjet snickered and Skywarp turned to glare. Ramjet schooled his expression. Skywarp turned back slowly, uncertain how he should treat Acid Storm's advice. “What ways?” Skywarp whispered.

“Do you not know?”

“Starscream was so well versed in such matters, as evidenced by his many past successful relationships,” Ramjet said. 

“He is a little dense about some things,” Acid Storm commented.

“Do you mean just making sure the sparks do not touch?” Skywarp whispered even more quietly.

“There is that, but you might find it difficult to resist.”

“Yes!” Skywarp sighed.

“I see.” Acid Storm smiled knowingly.

Skywarp cringed, certain he has just unknowingly revealed something Acid Storm had not actually known. Maybe 'Cid had assumed Skywarp was the one who thought sparking would be scary. Well, it probably would have been if he considered it being with anyone by Thundercracker. Skywarp had identified Thundercracker as a suitable, and somewhat willing protector very early in his life. It was true he had wanted to share a few physical acts with Thundercracker for some time, since before they had even reached New Kaon. But, he had vowed not to force Thundercracker, or to allow anyone else to do so.

Skywarp could hear Ramjet laughing again. “There's another way?”

“Yes,” Acid Storm said, “I would not recommend it casually, but if a couple is devoted enough and needs to be together, but it is not currently safe to conceive – such as having a lack of resources – they might use a spark arrester.”

“A c-contraceptive device?” Skywarp squeaked.

Acid Storm nodded.

“But that's entirely against our mission parameters!”

Acid Storm shrugged and swiveled his chair to go back to monitoring comms. He called over his left shoulder, “But if you had a reason to wait, I hear Dirge's R&D team might be able to provide such a device.”

And at a steep price, Skywarp thought, not to mention the embarrassment of having to reveal the type of device he needed. Dirge and his team were just mercenary. Swindle had avoided being conscripted by Megatron for the military force defending New Kaon mainly because he had evidence he was Dirge's mate.

The office door opened. Skywarp turned quickly as soon as he heard the faint slide of the door. Barricade came out first, and then Thundercracker. “I need to check on our science team,” Thundercracker, 'Skywarp, you have command.”

“Sir,” Skywarp said, and quickly opened his comm to Barricade, who was taking his seat at the helm. 'What did he say to you?'

'Can't say.'

Can't? 'What did you say to Thundercracker?'

The upper lenses of Barricade's dual optics flicked toward Skywarp again. 'I told him we just talked about physics, that it was obvious you were with him, and I had no intention of competing with that.' Barricade snorted audibly, 'I suggested, if he didn't know what to do with you, he might try some light bondage, as you are always threatening me with velvet rope.'

“You did not!” Skywarp said out loud. He heard Ramjet snicker even as he realized he had spoken.

Barricade commed his reply, 'I did.'

'I do not always threaten you with velvet rope. Maybe twice!'

'More than twice. Want I should upload the memory files?'

'I do not slaggin' believe you!' Skywarp cursed over the comm. 'What business do you have suggesting bondage to Thundercracker?'

'He asked.'

Skywarp quivered with suppressed rage. Fraggin' Barricade didn't know what he was doing! Thundercracker was the only mech more naïve than Starscream when it came to courtship and breeding, let alone deviant versions thereof! And, Skywarp was not even considering himself very knowledgeable. He only knew because he had seen music videos from Earthling Shock Rock and Visual Kei bands; there were probably all kinds of Cybertronian deviancy he did not even know about!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even remember how I managed to write this guy.

Barricade was a completely average Decepticon. It was arguable Barricade was a Decepticon at all. Both preceding statements were true. Both statements were false.

Barricade was a little complicated. But, average, really, nothing special. Not one that wanted to be noticed as exceptional and chosen for an important mission: the kind of mission so important that a potential failure brought severe, possibly lethal consequences. It was smart to avoid such peril. Not that Barricade was overly smart or at all cowardly. Cowardice occasionally brought personal invitation from someone high in the chain-of-command to join the next band of freedom fighters (read: cannon fodder) on their heroic (read: suicide) mission.

Barricade was younger than Starscream. This was 100% true. This meant Barricade did not know a time before the Great War. He did not remember a time without factions. When he had been sparked, the Cybertronian Empire had already sent its agents to Cybertron, casting the lineage of much of the current and future generations into some dispute. He had no intact data regarding individual creators, but clearly remembered a Decepticon education center and military training facilities.

His lineage was arguable, but for most purposes he was, by education and by neglecting to declare otherwise, a Decepticon. This suited him well enough, not that he ever genuinely gave his loyalty to any leader, or 100% agreed with the concept of organized factions. But, he was really good at pretending to be a team player. 

Some of the likely candidates for creators were (according to intelligence files he had later accessed): an authoritative leader of a Decepticon-affiliated street racing gang; a clever, scheming sports-model with a gambling habit and possible Imperial ties; and an Autobot security officer with rather gray morals and associated 'loose cannon' reputation.

Barricade was spreading his hypothetical currency and betting on all three; odds were good and screw it if gambling was illegal and it was his call.

The only reason it mattered – and it wasn't any need for emotional ties – was that Barricade wanted to know who to thank (read: curse) for the security tats on his arms. Like a newly protoformed Seeker sprouting wing nubs and turbine heels; he'd always had panels on each arm emblazoned with security markings. What a way to stand out and be selected for future assignments in security, enforcement, or going undercover as a 'Bot in security or enforcement!

That was what had happened. Right out of military training, memory banks chock full of truth and justice (read: Decepticon indoctrination rhetoric). “Barricade, good news, you are going to get your finally upgrades; we've decided to format you as an Autotrooper; you will be going undercover in Iacon.”

Completely average, really, but intelligent enough to pick-up on the use of 'good news' to prepare his processor to receive whatever was presented next as being a good thing. 'Getting upgrades' was good; a slipping of truth in before the lie. 'Autotrooper'; well actually, Barricade found being a pretend Autotrooper as amusing as the pit was deep. 'Undercover in Iacon' was the catch; the lie slipped in with the truth that was supposed to register as a harmless, pointless detail to the weak processor.

Barricade was not a weak processor. He was too fractious by nature not to question every thing and every angle, especially if it came from one claiming to be in authority.

He'd served most of the Great War on Cybertron among the Autotroopers. He had liked it. Being a real Autotrooper would have been slagging boring, but being a pretend one had been brilliant. Barricade had discovered that causing dissent in the surrounding ranks, setting-up pretend friends for betrayal, and getting away with disobedience under the sensors of his chain-of-command was fun. Plus, they lacked the severe punishments of the Decepticon faction, and most often assumed he was glitched, rather than an imposter, which just meant he got to see a lot of the nurse-bots. Nurse-bots made good pretend-friends, too.

Barricade had also discovered that he didn't like Autobots and their ways much, but at the same time, he was no more ingratiated to the Decepticons or their ways. When the time came for the Decepticons to pull out and leave Cybertron, Barricade was quick to remind them of his (pretty much default) allegiance. He got his reformat into a respectable Decepticon shell: black finish with violet and silver highlights, slick set of spiked armor, and new tats to build his lame security markings into full sleeves of perverse logos and mottoes indicating just what he thought of authority, security and enforcement. (Disappointingly, the satirical and perverse nature of his markings were often misunderstood by weak processors.)

For a while, Barricade had served on the Nemesis, not that he had tried to gain notice of Megatron. His goal was to seem average. He'd served as sometimes as helmsmech or navigator, stunning his commanding officers with his completely average grasp of physics (because fliers were so completely elitist that a grounder with any grasp of how matter and energy behaved in more than two dimensions was some kind of prodigy).

The crew of that ship had a high turn-over rate. There was a core crew Megatron kept close: Lugnut, because he was loyal; Starscream because he was too disloyal not to watch and too skilled to just kill; at least one triple-changer, which was usually Blitzwing; and at least one femme, which was sometimes Strika. The remainder of the crew changed with the missions and planetary systems. Acid Storm and his trine had usually joined the crew when there was a new planet to scout or a particular need for intelligence work or Megatron needed Overcast to develop a new device. Blackout or the triple changers would be called in for missions that required a few more heavy hitters. Oil Slick could develop those types of weapons Overcast could not. And, of course, Megatron kept Swindle and Lockdown on retainer.

Barricade had loved serving with Starscream, firstly because it was easy to go unnoticed next to Starscream, and secondly because Starscream, manipulative as he was himself, just wasn't guarded (or 'street smart', as grounders said) enough to keep from being manipulated. Ever amusing, but never to be underestimated: that was Starscream.

Barricade had left the crew around the time Blackarachnia came on board. Too many optics.

He'd joined the refugees on New Kaon and found work as an interrogator for the Enforcers. Though he didn't really like being an Enforcer on principle (that symbols his nanites grew on his arm-panels should determine his function in life), he liked the twisted humor of being a very bad cop, in several sensed of the phrase, who was very good at playing Good Cop. He tried playing Bad Cop occasionally, just for variety. He would bring in different size screws and both manual and motorized screwdrivers and just drive screws into inert surfaces in the room (or his crazy partner's appendages) while he presented the situation. He'd never actually had to use the screwdriver on the prisoner.

But, Barricade was better at playing Good Cop. He had been especially successful in this when Frenzy had been around to play barely intelligible Bad Cop. “Trust me (so I can show you how wrong you were).”

That game had gotten old after a while. Most of the prisoners were Decepticon refugees themselves and jaded and desensitized to all forms of betrayal.

That was when Barricade had hooked-up, as it were, with Acid Storm. 'Cid had needed someone – preferably not another flier – who was good at getting others to talk without using overt interrogation techniques. It had been a good deal. Barricade acted out the role of being a door-mech at a ritzy refuel joint, and used his cover to make contact with patrons or potential and would-be patrons and chat them up to get as much personal information as he was able. He was good at it. The position also afforded him ample supply of fuel, private quarters for his use, and a chance to witness a whole lot of delicious drama.

He also had a side-gig going with a few other refuel spots. When he turned a would-be away from the door for not being quite the clientèle Acid Storm expected, he would slip them a data chip offering a fuel discount at another establishment. The managers of those joints would track the chips and give him a small fee for every patron he directed toward them.

It was rare Barricade had to actually get physical in his position as door-mech (Bouncer in less ritzy establishments). His completely average status and ability to pretend-befriend anyone usually enabled him to talk his way out of sticky situations. “Listen, I'm just an average Decepticon, like you. It's the owners. Fliers. You know. Elitist. But, listen, mech, I know this other refuel spot [insert traits of establishment appropriate to the would-be in question], and I even have this special V.I.P. pass. Here, take it. It's yours. I wish I could do more, but you know how it is. Slaggin' boss.”

The last time anyone had gotten physical at the door was the night he had met Skywarp. Barricade had been a little off his game, even before the alleged coward had shown up. Acid Storm had been particularly demanding over the hectocycle before, since rumors of Starscream's resurrection and Seekers involved in a prison break had reached them from Cybertron. Barricade had done his best to get the information Acid Storm wanted. He had been the one to comm 'Cid as soon as he saw the Seekers in the sky; kept one set of lenses on them so he could upload the feed.

The arrival of Starscream with six other Seekers had drawn more mechs than usual to The Bird Cage ('Cid's sense of humor was also lost on weak processors; Seekers hated to be associated with organic avians). Barricade had been short on recharge, already. The recent rumors meant longer status update sessions to share data; he had started his shift at the door early, in anticipation of more questions and rumors; he had recorded the dance in the sky; and then there was the emergency session inside, when Starscream and Slipstream arrived. He had lost a lot of his fake-nicety by the time Motormaster arrived.

The matter with the Autobot had been amusing to watch, and it had been satisfying to see his small problem with Motormaster apparently resolve itself as Red Alert flipped him over the side of the skywalk.

Barricade had never expected anyone to somehow apparate into the space beside him, much less with an intact and cringing Motormaster.

Barricade had received extant information on the Seeker clones in the status session with 'Cid, so he should have quickly made the ID based on the coloring of the Seeker who had suddenly appeared at his side, and calculated his next move. But Skywarp was not going to let him or his night go on being average. Barricade was not going to escape unscathed and unnoticed. It had taken what cool he had left to lift the rope to let Red Alert go to the door.

Otherwise, Barricade had all four lenses in his optics on Skywarp. One, he had made a bad-aft entrance by teleporting in, and with motormaster at his feet. Two, he had a seriously attractive black and violet deco with a cute little bunny tat on one side of his cockpit. Three, he was apparently one-half of a hilarious comic duo and though his straight-man wasn't much to Barricade's taste, Skywarp did a dead-on impression of Starscream with just enough emphasis on words like 'loyal' that his performance came across as satirical rather than just a bunch of slag from a Seeker who really was too full of himself.

On three, Barricade's conditional programming had triggered a series of courtship and breeding protocols. And at that, Barricade nearly crashed from internal conflict. Standing Decepticon protocol said emotional ties and breeding were unnecessary and he should shut down these protocols, yet his perverse core nature demanded he disregard standing protocols and do whatever the pit he wanted. Until then, what he wanted would have been to shut down such protocols anyway, but that would have been doing just what the authority figures wanted.

Barricade left the protocols active, without selecting any decisive option.

In the next nanoklik Skywarp shoved Motormaster from the skywalk.

Barricade attempted to process this: Skywarp, in some face-saving plot to protect Red Alert from having to feel guilty over throwing Motormaster from the skywalk, had used some kind of teleporting ability to rescue Motormaster, only to make a speech before witnesses how Motormaster actually deserved to be thrown from the skywalk, and then viciously shove Motormaster from the skywalk himself. 

The protocols pinged Barricade with renewed interest; his processor was saying he was attracted to Skywarp and all related courtship and breeding programming and hardware was on standby, just waiting for his conscious decision to either signal his attraction or deny it.

The list: 1. bad-aft teleporter, 2. nice colors; likes tats, 3. hilarious satirical sense of humor with demonstrated role-play skills, 4. not as cowardly as reported, 5. kinda twisted, really.

Barricade let the protocols remain active and watched and listened as Skywarp gave another Decepticon a reprimand and then quickly changed his manner to complimentary and offered reward. It was a beautifully subtle bit of manipulation, but Barricade had also distinctly heard the words 'come inside', and as Door-mech, that was his call.

Barricade reminded Skywarp of this, a little less politely than he should have (due to stress and fluster of attraction) and probably shouldn't have dropped Acid Storm's name to add weight to his claim.

Skywarp's response was to move even closer to Barricade, in that floaty, Seeker way. He ran a single claw-tip along a nearby spike of Barricade's armor. “Maybe you would like me to restrain you with velvet rope?” Skywarp whispered.

Barricade dwelt on those words a few nanokliks as their spark fields mingled. 'Maybe you would like me?' Yes. Yes, yes, yes. And, Skywarp knew it. 'Like me to restrain you?' Yes, not really, well, actually yes. He would. It was blatantly suggestive of deviant expressions of physical intimacy; asserted Skywarp's dominance, indicated he liked to play games, and could still be rationalized as a legitimate threat of punishment from a commanding officer, should anyone question their dialogue at a later time. 'With velvet rope?' Pit yes! Way to demean his position as 'the help', while communicating a desire to possess within restraints; soft, playful restraints, because Skywarp was clarifying that his proposed activities did not include lasting physical harm.

Barricade replied, still rather flustered, “Yes – No! No, Commander. Go right in. I'm certain Acid Storm would not deny a fellow Seeker.”

A brief flash of a smile. “As you were, Barricade. Keep up the good work.”

Barricade's spark was literally spinning in its chamber.

The list continued: 6. coy and manipulative, 7. possible bondage fetish, 8. likes games, 9. asserting dominance could be compensation for previously reported cowardice, 10. already made physical contact and suggested interest.

And, he had made a point of using Barricade's name. Barricade was not the only one with access to some manner of intelligence or personnel files. And, it was always more personal when one used another's name.

Barricade watched Skywarp and Thundercracker enter the interior of The Bird Cage. Thundercracker. He was, probably, an obstacle.

When the door had closed, Barricade shuffled the protocols, indicating yes to most. He was not sure how or to what end, but he was going to be with Skywarp. Maybe just to play a while, maybe just for fun. Barricade hoped it would not be serious. He could not afford to stand out so much as to be publicly courting some Seeker who was kin to Starscream.

But, then it had all gone and gotten pretty slagging serious. That was not to mention, complicated.

The next Barricade had seen Skywarp had been at the reception in the command quarters at New Kaon, celebrating Ramjet and Red Alert's bonding of the night before. Barricade's invitation had come by way of Starscream, in the quarters above The Bird Cage, on the night of this bonding ceremony. He had explained that one of his Seeker clones had been in formal courtship with the Autobot medi-bot since they met in Trypticon Maximum Security Detention Facility, and they were presently making their vows in secret before a few witnesses, and that the public celebration would be the next night of the local solar cycle. “You are welcome to attend,” Starscream had said, “Do make yourself presentable.”

Barricade understood this seeming suggestion was alike to a royal command. With Megatron out of the picture, again, Starscream was the highest ranked Decepticon in the city-state (no real Decepticon afforded Governor Straxus any authority, and in this particular case Barricade counted himself as a real Decepticon). And even with his personal issues with authority, Starscream, and Acid Storm who was loyal to the higher-ranked Seeker were not ones Barricade was comfortable with openly disobeying. Secretly and covertly, yes, but overtly, no.

Barricade had gone to an all-cycle maintenance station he knew and let the drones give him the works. A few scrapes down to bare metal might seem badges of courage to Decepticon race and sports models, but Barricade had worked with Seekers long enough to know they considered such wear a grievous offense to aerodynamics. Besides, burnt oil and rubber might give a grounder pleasant flashbacks to the Cyber Ferry moaning through the barracks of their youngling stage, but most fliers would turn up their olfactory receptors with accompanying sneer of disgust at the aroma. 

Barricade had gone so far as to stroll to the command quarters, so as to not wear the treads of his fresh tires.

When Barricade had entered the assembly hall where the reception was being held, the drone announced him formally with the rank of Sergeant. Barricade, again on principle (that at any given moment real power or control had anything to do with titles), did not like use of rank, but he kept his cool and walked to the end of the receiving line to make his formal congratulations to the new couple. Ordinarily, all this pomp would have just been more boring scrap that Barricade disdained about the faction (for all the talk of freedom fighting, they had very strict military command structure and policy, and a ridiculously strong sense of tradition when it came to any formal occasion), but then particular party was celebrating a few non-conformist concepts.

For one, a Seeker (the most pompous of the pompous bunch) had taken an Autobot bondmate, and no one was so much as lifting a servo in protest, including the Autobot. Secondly, this bond they were apparently to celebrate (by royal command) was in itself violation of previous policy. So far as Barricade knew, the official story was still that the faction was not dwindling in numbers, and if it were, it was entirely the fault of Autobot attacks, and would hypothetically have nothing to do with previously established protocols that discouraged (with severe penalty) all unions based on emotional attachment or breeding that would give soldiers cause for distraction on the battlefield, or otherwise leave soldiers indisposed while they were carrying newsparks, or generally create a dependant class of non-combatants that required feeding and thus were a drain on resources, which of course were plentiful and not short in supply (even though they were on rations) and thus there would be no sparkbonding and no celebrating of hypothetically non-existent sparkbonds. Thirdly, the command quarters had not officially been assigned to Thundercracker, who apparently took care of managing the real leadership duties for Lord Starscream.

Oh, and Ramjet's file said he was a pathological liar, so one had to wonder how he had made vows at all. There was a rumor that he had made some progress with his therapy, when in prison, and learned to make true statements, but if that were true, then no one could ever be certain when he was lying or not. Which made the information in his file all rather pointless. Barricade had to meet this mech.

“I am not here to congratulate you on a sacred union which our faction does recognize and therefore does not exist, and which I would have to report to a superior officer, if I were still in Enforcement, if I were to to recognize its existence.”

“Which you could not do, if you were a real Decepticon or Enforcer and thus one who would be obligated to report what you recognized,” Red Alert had said in Decepticon.

Highly developed logic circuits, Barricade thought, explained how she communicated with Ramjet.

“Enjoy the party, 'Cade,” Ramjet had said, “Really. I mean it.”

And, actually, he had enjoyed the party very much, as soon after helping himself to some high-grade energon, Barricade had found Skywarp seated at a table with Acid Storm and Overcast. It would only be polite to go greet his current commanding officer, and ask to be introduced to his new companion.

“Do you know Barricade?” 'Cid had asked of Skywarp.

Smirk. “Not in every sense of the word.”

“He cleans up well,” Overcast mocked.

“May I sit?” Barricade asked. “I would not want to frighten you.”

“I am nearly twice your size and armed,” Skywarp said, which was not the same, Barricade noticed, as saying he was not frightened. With a small click Skywarp revealed a pair of lasers beneath panels in his right gauntlet.

Barricade took the seat to Skywarp's right. “Certain you wish to go the path of negative reenforcement?”

Skywarp retracted the laser weapons so that the panels were again flush with his gauntlets. “Overcast was correct. You smell of fresh rubber and wax.”

“Starscream indicated formal appearance was desired.”

“You comply well with requests,” Skywarp said softly. He did not look directly at Barricade, but his faceplate showed that Starscream-like smirk.

Barricade had been on the verge of real anger, when he reminded himself that he already knew Skywarp was manipulative and liked to play games. It would be a great mistake to provide any further evidence that he felt any particular emotion at the suggestion that he was one who easily complied with authority. “Depends who is in control,” Barricade had replied.

Skywarp had turned suddenly so that his left wing obscured Acid Storm and Overcast from Barricade's view. “I heard you have some knowledge of physics!”

This was likely not true, Barricade had thought. That Skywarp had 'heard' this allegation. It seemed more likely, based on Barricades observations of the Seeker clones on a whole, that they shared some of Starscream's memory files. This was a valuable bit of intel, especially to Barricade; he would not do well to use the same old tricks he had already used on Starscream on one of his clones. “Just average, really,” Barricade had said.

Skywarp had then suggested that even a mech with an average grasp must be familiar with the number of a certain set of dimensions and several constants important to transwarp calculations.

Barricade listened carefully to the manner in which Skywarp phrased the query. He was speaking in a code that another mech learned in physics would understand. It was a test, to see if Barricade was one who, firstly, possessed the relevant subject matter, secondly could recognize patterns and codes, and third could figure out how Skywarp intended him to apply this knowledge.

It took a klik, during which Skywarp seemed very interested in what Thundercracker was doing with Thunderblast at a nearby table, but Barricade input the string on numbers into his comm scheme selector in a specific order and received a ping from an active comm channel. 'You going to tell me about Thundercracker?' Barricade had commed.

Skywarp had looked at him directly and smiled. He replied by comm, 'Can't.'

Not 'will not', 'maybe', or 'later'. Skywarp was restricted from either confirming or denying the existence of anything going on between himself and Thundercracker. This usually meant there was definitely something going on, but public knowledge of the details would lead to some embarrassing questions. In this case, Barricade was guessing Skywarp's promotions would look awfully suspicious, even if he had earned them, in the light of a personal relationship with his commanding officer. The alternative was that nothing was going on, but one or both of them wished to cause some confusion or disinformation in regard to the situation, possibly, in this case, to keep potential courters away.

Barricade could work around this. He could ask others what they knew, or observe the couple himself for a while. 'You ever actually restrain anyone in velvet rope before?' Barricade had commed.

Skywarp said something aloud about antiquated theories of waves verses particles and transcending space-time. It was pretty basic information by Cybertronian standards. Then Barricade received his comm. 'No, but I've a pair of stasis cuffs with me right now.'

Barricade understood the rules of Skywarp's game. They could chat over private comm so long as Barricade could keep up the illusion of having a professional conversation about physics. He said something about light perceived as traveling from a distant star. 'I might just have an old pair of Enforcer magni-cuffs.'

'Nice. Restraint without immobilization.'

'Was it scary being restrained and immobilized?'

'Very.'

So, Barricade had thought, Skywarp had worn them. 'How did you get out?'

'TC was there.' Barricade noticed the use of a short-form to refer to Thundercracker. 'Were you ever in restraints or were those just for all your helpless prisoners?'

What a loaded question. 'Never been in restraints myself.'

'But you don't mind putting them on others you want to control?'

Barricade had a feeling of being set-up for a trap, but he could not entirely decide which was the wrong, or worst, way to go. 'Don't you know I play Good Cop? I get to the the one to offer you release.'

Skywarp's amusement carried over the comm, 'You want to offer me release?'

'You want me to restrain you?'

'Not really, but I would be willing to go outside my comfort zone and face my fears, for someone who had earned my trust.'

That was key: becoming someone who had earned his trust. Usually Barricade was very good at that, deserving of it or not. 'But you can put someone else in restraints without trusting them?'

'I can put an enemy in restraints, but you know, being such a coward, I would more likely immobilize them with a nullray.'

'Have you put a friend or ally in restraints?'

'Have you?'

'Most of my real prisoners were Decepticons.'

Skywarp continued to speak about physics, but he appeared to be calculating. Barricade was, as well. Skywarp had not answered whether he ever put a friend in restraints. But then, Barricade had not technically answered that question either.

'It must be difficult to make friends...in your line of work.' Skywarp suggested.

Yes, Barricade thought to himself, I have fun controlling others and I have no real friends or allies. 'I do not play well with others.'

'I like to play,' Skywarp commed, 'I have used restraints on a friend when we were playing a game. Our team has sometimes been in a position to take prisoners, but I was never alone responsible for this. But, then, I am in a command position. It may just be a matter of time before a subordinate acts badly enough to be deserving of some punishment. How do you feel about punishment? I think, you probably try to avoid being punished yourself.'

'You seem like you would try to avoid punishment.'

'I admit it fully. I consider it smart to avoid harm and punishment.'

'Why would anyone seek punishment?'

'They might if they had any remorse about their more harmful deeds.'

'No remorse. No regrets.'

'Really? So you genuinely like having physical and emotional control over helpless prisoners.'

'That was for work.'

'Then you were just following orders?'

'I do not even like Enforcer work.'

'You like convincing others you can be trusted. Offering release. Being the good guy. The friend.'

'Sure.'

'Yet you do not have any friends that trust you to play bondage games.'

Barricade did not reply.

'Which is better? The thrill and satisfaction of getting others to trust you, or the part where you purposely betray them to prove that they were not real friends and therefore no loss to you?'

“I do not want to discuss physics anymore,” Barricade had said aloud.

“'Cade – may I call you Cade?”

“I don't care.”

“Really? Because usually short-forms are only tolerated from close allies. Some are allowed to call me 'Warp, for example. You may call me Warp-san, if you like. That seems fair, doesn't it, Cade? I am several ranks above you, but we have a professional relationship as scholars in a common field. A short -form plus honorific suffix should suffice.”

“Alien term?”

“It is.”

“Warp-san.”

“Cade, would you be so kind as to fetch me a drink.”

“Sure, Warp-san. What are you drinking?”

“Surprise me. I trust you.” The smirk.

Barricade had gone to the buffet and requested a drink called a crimson fog – it was Starscream's drink, as Barricade recalled – from the drone. He returned to the table and sat beside Skywarp. He set the drink down before Skywarp and then watched him lift the bottom-heavy container and drink.

He was still watching, when Skywarp set the glass down again. “I know. I look especially cute with energon smeared across my lip plating. Thundercracker has previously informed me.”

Barricade opened their comm again. 'What are you playing at?'

Skywarp pushed the nodule of sense receptors from his mouth and licked his lips. 'I told you that I thought it smart to avoid harm, but I also told you I was willing to face my fears.'

Barricade thought about that statement a klik as Skywarp finished the rest of his drink. It was smart to avoid harm, but courageous – not cowardly – to risk facing harm in order to...? Just have the satisfaction of not being considered cowardly? There had to be more to it. What could Skywarp possibly have to gain in pretending to trust someone he knew very well was only pretending to be worthy of that trust? What was the point of this game? 

It had taken Barricade hectocycles, but he had finally (he was pretty sure) figured out Skywarp's game. They had met repeatedly to talk about physics, but all the while flirted with each other mercilessly, sometimes making threats or trying to break each other's will. Sometimes Skywarp had sent his puppet to talk to Barricade for him: a holomatter avatar in the form of a cross-dressing Earth male with racial features conforming to the population of an island nation in the north and eastern hemispheres of that planet. In subsequent meetings they had gotten dangerously physical; a lot of that seemed in retrospect a series of trust exercises on Skywarp's part. He had cuffed them together once with Barricade's magni-cuffs. He had allowed Barricade to see the hidden place on his left back-strut where Thundercracker had tattooed his name. Skywarp had given Barricade the pen that was enabled to reprogram his nanites to alter surface pigmentation, and declared he trusted Barricade to add a tattoo to his back-strut.

They were in Barricade's quarters on the Lycoris on a rare, shared off-shift. If Barricade put the tattoo there – he could have written or drawn anything 'Skywarp sucks ball bearings' or 'Barricade was here' – then Thundercracker was going to see it. Skywarp had never betrayed Thundercracker openly, but it was obvious after all this time that Skywarp and Thundercracker were not merely fellow clones, nor superior and subordinate officers, but lovers. 

'Send the puppet out,' Barricade commed. As usual, they were still discussing physics, except that by this time, their conversations were actually about some complex theories and Barricade's grasp was well above what it had been before, if that ever had been average. 

'If Stormshadow comes out, I will be able to know what you put there. I told you, I trust you to do it.'

'Can't I want it to come out and show me how to form the Earth characters?' Barricade asked, 'It was probably your plan all along.'

'Was not. I trust you with this.'

Barricade had the game figured out, but he was going to do the tattoo first. 'I trust you to not abuse the mad master-slave partitioning of your processor and let yourself know what the AI knows. Send it out.'

The avatar appeared, curiously attired in frilly garments and armed with a pair of swords. It regarded Barricade coolly. Barricade had dealt with the customized avatar before. The insane brilliance and complete disregard for conformity in Skywarp partitioning his own processor in order to give the holomatter artificial intelligence was number 12 on Barricade's list of reasons he was attracted to Skywarp. The fact that Skywarp had done the risky bit of programming just to avoid the frightening possibility of being alone somewhere did not make it any less awesome. 

But, as much as Barricade liked the concept of the thing, he was always uncomfortable dealing with the AI; though he had occasionally driven around with it in his interior. “Skywarp is in stasis?”

There was a language barrier. It understood Decepticon, but could only communicate in Earth languages Barricade had yet to learn. The AI spoke through the holomatter in its alien language and with gesture, confirming well enough that Skywarp had put himself in sleep mode while also allowing the AI out in its autonomous mode.

“I need you to show me the text, the characters for some verbs, words of something being done.”

The AI made some gestures as it spoke. Barricade vaguely understood it was requesting orientation of text: top-to-bottom, or right-to-left.

“Top-to-bottom.” Barricade spoke the verbs to the AI.

Later, Skywarp woke. He and Barricade were alone. It was nearing the end of the shift. Thundercracker no doubt expected Skywarp to come to their shared quarters.

“We are going to talk. Not about physics.”

“Very well,” Skywarp agreed. He folded his dorsal plating back into place to hide his struts and then turned, so he sat at one end of the berth, facing Barricade.

“I know. All of this. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. You said you thought it smart to avoid pain, but also that you were willing to face your fears. I did not understand at first. I did not understand your angle; why you would knowingly pretend you were trusting me, knowing I was going to pretend to be worthy of that trust and ultimately betray you. You wanted me to understand that it was my choice, always my choice to betray. You wanted me to see that there was always the alternative to willingly continue the friendship, and in doing so make it real, not pretend.”

“There is that option, Cade. Is that, everything?”

“As soon as I make that choice, if I choose for myself not to betray you, it instantly puts me at risk of being betrayed by you, and thus feeling loss, and being emotionally harmed.”

“Yes. And I did say I believed avoiding harm was smart.”

“And, we're both smart, Warp-kun.”

Skywarp smiled, probably at the new honorific. Barricade knew how to get the AI to teach him words. “You may use my name alone.”

“Warp, you want me to feel fear? Do you fear losing me?”

“That is not specifically what I wish you to feel. But, yes, I do fear losing what we have.”

“I remember we discussed on some occasions why someone would risk punishment, but I never actually asked why one might risk harm? Do you know why one might risk harm? Why one would do something such as purposely create a situation in which they would be forced to face fear, or knowingly enter into some...real attachment, so they might risk loss and emotional harm?”

“I know. Of course I know. I assume you know as well, now, or we would not be having this conversation.”

“I know you love Thundercracker. I may be willing to take some risks for a suitable reward, but I will not continue sneaking around with my Leader's own lover beneath his sensors. As much as I love the perverse and rebellious, as much as I – Warp, I am smart, and I am not going to risk both our lives for what we have now.”

“What we have now not being suitable enough reward for you to put both our lives at risk?”

“Yeah!”

“So, you are saying you want something, more suitable? Or is there nothing worth risking both our lives over?”

Barricade considered this. “Both. I do understand a continued friendship, whether you consider it real or not, could have some rewards, but-”

“But?”

“When there is fear of real loss, it seems only smart to want some assurances.”

“Unlike the pretend assurances you usually give others, you mean.”

“Slag you, Warp! I am saying-”

“That you want to give me an ultimatum, so that this can end without you being the betrayer this time, and before either the potential loss, or guilt of betrayal is greater than your cowardly spark can handle.” No emphasis, just statement. It was true.

“Tell me that you love me – or just let me go.”

Skywarp stood and went to the door. Then he left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue (and audible gasp) in the first 6 (six) paragraphs, plus the later 4 (four) paragraphs starting with “Say my name. What is my name?” is transcribed from Transformers Energon, Episode 11, 'The Legend of Rodimus', in which the same dialogue is used for Megatron's re-education of (Alpha Q's Unicron-reanimated) Starscream. The names have been changed. Any transcription errors are mine.

Skywarp onlined, processor lagging. His optics were not yet 100% functional; he could see light, immediately about him and then darkness. His limbs were suspended by some restraints. He felt rather...crispy, which gave him a bad feeling he had been shot by a null ray. “What's this?” Skywarp asked, vocalizer rasping from the temporary disruption to his electrical systems, “Where am I?”

A smooth, commanding voice answered from the darkness outside the pool of light Skywarp could perceive. “You are in a void. A void of total darkness-” Except for the strings of light he was hanging from, obviously, Skywarp thought. “Absolute nothingness. Where you belong.”

He knew it had been a very bad idea for anyone – especially Barricade – to suggest 'light bondage' to Thundercracker. He should have been afraid, except that it was kind of funny, and endearing that Thundercracker would be so literal and serious about it. Skywarp had no idea where he had come up with the horrible script, but he supposed he should play along, at least until there seemed an opportunity to save face for his leader or steer things in a better direction. Skywarp gasped purposely, and hoped it was not too over-acted.

“Are you afraid of the dark? Well, you should be, because I am in it. Don't you remember you used to be one of my trusted-” Thundercracker said something unintelligible, perhaps faltering over the words in whatever wretched re-education script he had discovered. “Uh, now you are nothing. You do not even know your own name, insert name.” This had to stop, before bondage was ruined forever! “You are just a prisoner of the darkness. Well, get used to your new home. You'll be staying there a very long time.”

“Stop it!” Skywarp cried. He could not stand it anymore!

“So, Barricade is behind all this. I should have known.” How had Barricade's name gotten into the script? It made no sense. “Well, I'll deal with him soon enough. For the time being, Skywarp, I'll just let the darkness swallow you up!”

“Please, Sir,” Skywarp begged as pitifully as Starscream had ever begged from Megatron. He wondered if Thundercracker's script had any useful if/then statements in it.

“What is it, Prisoner?” Thundercracker demanded in his usual imperious tone.

Skywarp sighed with relief. “Come closer, please.”

Thundercracker stepped into the light. Skywarp's optics and visual processing were recovered now. Skywarp was not certain, but he thought the strings of plastic-coated wire and tiny LEDs were holiday decorations from Earth. This explained the purpose of Thundercracker's sudden need to check on the science team, and why Skywarp had not been able to find Dirge when his shift ended. He had needed to go to Red Alert instead, for the device he required. He supposed Thundercracker must have shot him just outside their quarters.

“Do I have permission to speak freely, Sir?” Skywarp asked, and then, 'Or should I use comms?'

“You may feel secure we are reasonably alone here,” Thundercracker said. He stood only so close that the front of his frame was cast in the glow of multi-colored light. “I was so wise as to double-check my own expert knowledge of the vessel – just as a precaution – before initiating necessary security measures.”

“Then, Sir, I must inform you as your ever-loyal second-in-command, that it is necessary you inform me right now whether or not I am a prisoner-in-fact.”

“Of course you are my prisoner. I have you virtually immobilized and bedecked with strings of colorful light emitting diodes!”

“Yes, Sir, but if you take my meaning – am I your prisoner in an official military capacity? Perhaps having performed below your standards or offended a member of your crew? Or, might this be part of a game? With rules?”

“It matters not. What matters for you is that you are unable to free yourself or move any significant distance, while I...have you at my mercy, such as that may be.”

It did matter. Didn't it? “Well, if I am in fact a prisoner, then as your 2IC, I am obligated to draw your attention to the fact that-” Skywarp deployed the hidden lasers from his left gauntlet, which was vaguely in alignment with Thundercracker's position, “You should never leave a prisoner-” the laser would not fire.

Thundercracker laughed, cruelly, Skywarp thought.

“N-no. How d-did you d-do that?” Skywarp's intakes sucked air at a desperate pace. He could not be a real prisoner. Thundercracker wouldn't do that. Not to him. “Self diagnostics...” Skywarp whispered.

“Oh, My Dear Skywarp, can you be insulting my intelligence?” Thundercracker asked loudly. He produced, in the hollow of his right hand, four small red crystals. “The advantage of having the same template – inferior geek that he is – is that I have intimate knowledge of your anatomy. Self-diagnostics can be fooled.” He snapped his claws over the crystals, presumably to be stored away.

Could he have forgotten about Stormshadow? Skywarp was never alone. He had another mind in his shell, sharing his processor and memory banks. A small, basic, slave program. The diagnostics said Stormshadow's AI was running now, already, in autonomous mode. That was normal, considering Skywarp had been temporarily disabled. If the facsimile circuitry had not been directly affected by the nullray, or if it had reset before Skywarp's other systems, Stormshadow would have automatically acted to protect Skywarp. 

“Where is he?”

“To whom do you refer?”

Thundercracker could not disable him. No intimate knowledge of shared systems could enable him to take Skywarp's doll. Not even Slipstream could do it. He had to be nearby, somewhere. Skywarp had done mad things to his own processor to make him; to protect himself. He was supposed to be in Skywarp's control.

“Wh-where is my doll?” Skywarp asked timidly.

“You do not need him.”

Skywarp tried to move his limbs. He could pull or push his limbs enough to shift his center of gravity up or down some small amount, to tip himself forward or back, but the nanoklik he stopped putting force into resisting he sprang back into his former, neutral, suspended position.

“I had to reinforce the cheap Earth junk,” Thundercracker said, “Torkulonese silk, quite rare, but very strong and resilient.”

Skywarp tried firing his thrusters. No joy.

“Where is my DOLL?” Skywarp tipped himself forward, but could not reach Thundercracker with any part of his shell.

“Safe,” Thundercracker said calmly. “You are both safe.”

“What is safe about this? Thundercracker, just let me see Stormshadow. I need him. He's part of me.”

“I said: he is safe. He is in autonomous mode, and in that mode he is able to remain autonomous so long as you are in any way incapacitated, so that he may protect you.”

“I don't see him.”

“He is near. It would be beneath me to lie about such a thing.”

“I would feel better, if you told me,” Skywarp said, tone coy as he could manage.

Thundercracker was amused. “It is not time for you to feel better, yet.”

“How?”

“Do not worry your processor over the holomatter. I merely convinced his AI that it was for your good he not act immediately. Now, I take it you did not care for the script.”

“No one likes an obvious script.”

“Skywarp, I do not for a nanoklik believe, no matter the color of your paint, how coy you may act, or how many music promos or space operas you have seen, that you are an expert in pleasures of the shell or deviant variations thereof.”

“I know a little more than you,” Skywarp said bitterly.

“So you think.”

“I know you are supposed to ask consent!”

“Are you not mine?” Thundercracker demanded.

“Well....”

“Have you, Skywarp, not willingly put yourself under my command?”

“I have.”

“And are you not in fact my avowed consort and legal spouse under Decepticon law?”

“I am.” Secretly, but he was.

“Then we will have none of this pathetic bargaining like some weak species pleading for equal rights! We will have none of this consent, or permission or safe-words, as if we must rationalize what we do is only acceptable in the form of a game. It is acceptable I do whatever I please with you, because you are mine! And if you were not in agreement with this eventuality, then you would not have used your freedom – your freedom that we fought for, and which was not granted by default upon some minimal qualification of sentience – to choose to give yourself to ME!”

“I'm yours,” Skywarp admitted.

“Say my name. What is my name?”

“Thundercracker,” Skywarp said weakly.

“Say it again!”

“Thun-der-crack-er.”

“To whom do you belong?”

“I belong to you, Thundercracker!”

“Only me?” Thundercracker asked, tone gravely quiet. Demanding and imperious would have been more comforting.

“Yes.” Don't hurt him, Skywarp thought, not because of me.

“Are you certain that is how you intend to answer your master?” Thundercracker asked coolly.

“I-I only belong to you...in that way.”

“So, you are telling me that you do belong to another...in some alternate manner.”

“Is that what this is about? Interrogation? To make me confess? To betray some friendship of which you might disapprove?”

“No. You are mistaken. It is not about that at all. Yet, I do indeed require your complete honesty with me, Skywarp.”

“You wouldn't hurt them.”

“Would I?”

Skywarp shook his head; he had that much range of motion. “I know you are just. If there was battle to wage or punishment to mete out, you would see it done, and done well, but you do not harm those who are undeserving.”

“And I may trust that you, who have earned a place so deserving of my attention, also remain undeserving of punishment?”

“I have not betrayed you. I am yours, Thundercracker. Yours. As you said: I used my freedom to choose to give myself to you. I surrender my shell to your command, and my processor to your will. I would give you my spark if you would have it.”

“Yes. Your spark.”

Skywarp did not know what, if anything he might say. He shifted his weight, tipping forward, trying to touch some part of Thundercracker. 

Thundercracker lifted his left arm and touched his claws to Skywarp's faceplate. It was infinitely reassuring. The contact between metal plating. The mingling of energy fields. Skywarp had genuinely expected anger, that Thundercracker's motivation for all of this was anger, but Thundercracker had been correct: Skywarp had been mistaken.

Thundercracker removed his hand.

“Please.”

“Please...what?” Thundercracker said, vocalizer just slightly stressed; extra static.

“We could do it right now,” Skywarp suggested, “it could be good for us.”

“I did say complete honesty, Skywarp. Say what you mean.”

Skywarp shuttered his optics a moment and thought about the words. Then, he looked for Thundercracker. He was looking back, and his expression was strangely soft. But even as Skywarp watched, Thundercracker's faceplate shifted into a serious, professional-like expression. “There's a way-” Skywarp started, and then thought better of himself.

“Say it,” Thundercracker commanded firmly.

“I greatly desire to share my spark with you.”

Thundercracker stepped toward Skywarp very quickly, and pressed against him so forcefully that Skywarp swung in his restraints, then crashed back against Thundercracker's cockpit canopy. So much want; a fury of want. Thundercracker's claws were on his face and helm; his allowed just enough slack to grasp Thundercracker's shoulders.

Their mouths touched. Skywarp felt sensor nodes scrape viciously at the interior of his mouth, as if with force, this time the chemical analysis would produce different results. It was the same: a pleasant physical sensation of lip plates, sensors and fangs, but a completely neutral taste.

Thundercracker tore himself away. Claws and fangs leaving marks on both their shells. Skywarp tasted energon bleeding from his lip; it was sweeter than the kiss. And then, the heavy scrape of Thundercracker's knuckle joints as he backhanded Skywarp across the right side of his faceplate. His vision fritzed for a few nanokliks.

Skywarp spat excess lubricant and energon to the floor. When he looked up, visual processing functional, he could not see Thundercracker. He was afraid. “Thundercracker?”

No response.

'TC!'

Not a ping.

“Please.”

“I meant to do that,” Thundercracker said. He was lying, and perhaps somewhere behind Skywarp now. “It was part of my plan. To show you.” Thundercracker did not customarily deign to lie or even use vulgar expression, not like common beings. But, sometimes he struggled as his own abundant ego and superior logic circuits vied for supremacy, and he spoke obvious falsehoods. Skywarp was well familiar with the signs and the rhetoric of his rationalization.

“I understand,” Skywarp said. “P-please...I don't want to be alone.”

“Maybe you deserve to be alone right now.”

“What do you want of me?” Skywarp demanded of the darkness, “I want to be with you! I don't want someone else!”

Thundercracker laughed. Somewhere else now, maybe to Skywarp's right. “Do you think, My Dear, that I do not desire the same? Do you think that I do not also have feeling? That I do not struggle when you share my berth to keep from taking my pleasure from you? To keep from arousing us both to the point that sparks would have to come to play?”

“I know,” Skywarp said, fairly aroused just thinking about it. “I know!”

“And it is all pointless!”

“So what if it is pointless? Most likely, we would not even be able to conceive, and even if one of us were afraid some unnatural thing would come of it, we could use a spark arrester....”

“Is that truly your desire? For us? To idly indulge in base pleasures, for no other reason?”

“It is not wrong,” Skywarp insisted. “Acid Storm said – I trust him in such matters – that it is healthy to express physical affection, even if no offspring come of it. He said that – that being together – sharing ourselves – it could help us work together, even fly better together.”

“That sounds so tempting,” Thundercracker said snidely, but he came back into view.

Skywarp smiled, just to see him again. “Please, let's try it. I am tired of struggling.” Outwardly and internally. “I love you. Let me show you.”

“We are not done, yet.”

“What is there-?”

Thundercracker walked around Skywarp's left side and entered a visual blindspot. Skywarp sensed him then against his back. Claws outlining sections of dorsal plating – his swallowtails, which were wrapped in strings of light. Skywarp knew; this position left his back-struts exposed. “Do you know what this says?” Skywarp felt a claw-tip run up his left back-strut. It was deep, structural, but it had tactile sensors. The touch sent alarms to his processor that his very frame was in risk of potential damage. Skywarp shivered.

“Your name,” he said, “Thundercracker.”

“And this?” Again the claw-tip, sweeping along his right back-strut.

“I don't know.”

“But I know. I have seen it. I even had it translated.” Skywarp wondered how long he had been unconscious that Thundercracker had time to search him so thoroughly and string him up here. “Now, tell me again, do you really belong only to me?”

“Yes,” Skywarp rasped. Whatever he said, Thundercracker's touch flowed with desire. “No other vows, no promises.”

“And you love me?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Only me?”

“Yes.”

“And want for no others?”

“Yes.”

“Then how are you to find us a third?” Thundercracker hissed at Skywarp's left audio receptor.

They had never spoken of it. “Third?”

“Do not play stupid, Skywarp. I said complete honesty. Do not disappoint me again. Do you or do you not fully understand what it means that we who are drawn to each other so strongly taste neutral when we take sample of each other?”

“It usually – that is I've heard it means you-”

“We....” Thundercracker prompted. He nuzzled his way along Skywarp's neck, nipping and sniffing, until he reached the transformation seam where Skywarp's wings met his torso.

“Don't stop.”

“We....” Thundercracker repeated, firmly.

Skywarp licked at his lips. His self repair systems had stopped most of the bleeding from his faceplate, but he could still taste the energon. “We need a third. If we want to be with each other, to stay together, and ever produce offspring, then we require another to join us. Specifically, one with codes varied enough from our own, so viable newsparks may be conceived.”

Thundercracker did not immediately speak, He stroked the top of Skywarp's right wing, not with claw-tips but with the balls of each digit. He seemed calmer now, still longing, as Skywarp was, but without the fury. “And since you became my consort, and were so informed as to our level of compatibility, it should have been your duty to...”

Skywarp honestly did not know the answer to this one. He guessed it had something to do with finding a third, which had had actually been doing, after a fashion, but so far as he knew there was no specific tradition among Seekers, Decepticons, or other Cybertronians that said this was the duty of any individual in particular. So, this was probably one of those times when Thundercracker's ego was affecting his logic circuits and telling him some grand scheme had been known and in effect all along.

Was Skywarp going to be the one to tell him this was just retroactive continuity? No.

“It should have been my duty – as consort – if I alone were not compatible enough to give you offspring....” Skywarp thought of all the recharge tales, holo-dramas and alien customs of which he knew. “to locate a suitable concubine?”

“Concubine?” Thundercracker pronounced the alien term. Skywarp heard something clatter to the floor behind him, Thundercracker's helm, he guessed.

“Yes, I am sure that important figures in civilized cultures have them. It is like lesser-spouse, or sub-consort,” Skywarp said stringing together equivalent Decepticon terms.

“Sub-consort. Our third,” Thundercracker said. “It is not like trine.” Skywarp could feel him shifting. Thundercracker's hands swept down Skywarp's wings and then held his thighs.

“No,” Skywarp agreed airily, a bit distracted by Thundercracker's movements. “It is not like trine. But, Slipstream can still be our third in the air. There are just not enough Seekers left for us to have real trines.”

“That is why we need offspring.” Thundercracker pressed his faceplate in toward Skywarp's back, where the swallowtail dorsal plating had been folded away. Skywarp could feel the tickle of the wiry spires atop Thundercracker's head that served as auxiliary heat sink. Thundercracker then licked Skywarp's right back-strut.

“I want.”

“Then tell me, My Love, what progress you have made in finding this sub-consort. You have been holding out on me. I know. Not making regular reports.”

Reports? Now? “W-well, first there was BB.”

“I thought coy, black and violet, little so-and-sos were that mech's type. How did you let him get away?”

“Well,” Skywarp started to answer. He saw Thundercracker stoop and duck beneath his suspended right arm. Skywarp pulled on his restraints with resistance enough to stroke Thundercracker's left wingtip as he passed. “That was rather the problem, Sir,” Skywarp said, with a bit of irritated sarcasm, “I was so similar to his last partner, but not quite the same thing.”

“Any other prospects?” Thundercracker knelt in front of Skywarp. The glare in his bright optics said it was not subservience to Skywarp, who clearly was his prisoner; but it was still nice to look at. Skywarp liked the silvery spires; they looked distinguished, and none of the other clones had the same.

“There was Scalpel.”

Thundercracker lolled the sensor nodule from between his lips and pressed through the seam at Skywarp's midsection to lick the tip of his nosecone.

“Frag!” Skywarp cursed. “Just tell me we're going to do it!”

Thundercracker stood. He did not speak, but set his claws loosely along Skywarp's cockpit and just looked. Skywarp saw his head tilt and optic lenses track.

“Please. I love you. Haven't I said everything you need me to say?”

“Do you know?” Thundercracker whispered, “how powerful you really are?”

“A little,” Skywarp admitted, “I am one of the six most handsome Decepticons.”

“They look like sparks.” Another whisper. “Sparks swarming all over you.”

“I look naughty with sparks all over me? You like me naughty?”

Thundercracker gave only a slight nod in response, still looking down along Skywarp's shell.

“I want yours.”

“We can merge, if you can tell me you can get him, for us.”

“To whom do you refer?” Skywarp asked in imitation of Thundercracker's manner of speech.

“Barricade. I want to at least hear a rumor that you have kissed him. If he is not the one, then you tell me you can find one who is right.”

“Do you think it's him?” Skywarp asked, and then before Thundercracker could answer, “I was afraid that even if I liked him, you might not find him worthy.”

“'Warp, I am saying that whomever you choose will be worthy. I trust you. Now tell me. Can you perform the task?”

“I am a Seeker,” Skywarp said, “I can find a third.”

Thundercracker whispered again, even more softly, “The one thing I will not judge him worthy of is being your first.”


	5. Chapter 5

Thundercracker sat on the berth in the quarters he and Skywarp shared aboard the Lycoris. His wings were pressed to the wall to which the length of the berth was attached. Skywarp's turbine heels and armor-bared legs were settled in his lap. He was running hot, and thankful the AllSpark had gifted him with an additional heat sink. Ordinarily it served to keep his processor cool when the unworthiness of reality all about him strained his logic circuits, but after the exertion, the adaptation was likely the only thing keeping him from going into stasis, or at least browning out for a klik.

“I've been trying to just get my claws around it,” Skywarp said quietly. “It's not really something you can describe easily to another person. Is it?”

“No,” Thundercracker replied quickly, but then added, “I am certain my superior intellect could compose some suitable description, however there is no need, as you were with me.”

“Yes,” Skywarp said slowly. Now Thundercracker thought about it, he wondered why Skywarp had not simply passed into stasis after the merge. Holding onto his own superior consciousness would be untenable after the overload to his systems, if not perhaps for his spires radiating heat into the cool chamber.

Skywarp was stretched out on their berth, decked in strings of colorful LEDs, but bare of his bulkiest pieces of armor. Thundercracker was able to perceive the thermodynamics at work, even without switching his optics to thermal. Skywarp's usual black armor gave him excellent heat distribution in atmospheric reentry, as well as a low radar profile. With dampening, he was a ghost to sensors, and with ability to transwarp on his own, a ghost who could infiltrate highly defended positions from the inside out. But without the sections of armor on his limbs, and lying prone, the pale silver and lavender colors reflected light and heat quite well, and the exposed internal workings meant a greater surface area was in contact with the ambient atmosphere of their chamber.

And, as had been demonstrated, exposed parts also meant more handholds for Thundercracker.

He reached up and unfastened the section of silver armor over his left shoulder. Thundercracker felt an immediate draft. Just that small amount went a long way to cool his shell. He laughed.

“Was something funny?” Skywarp asked.

“When you told me you knew that Slipstream was in the habit of removing her armor for Starscream, I truly thought it some ceremonial display of vulnerability to a liege, if not a pathetic Earth custom she learned watching all those 'daytime' and 'Science-fiction' programs. But, I realize there is an entirely practical reason to remove armor before a prolonged bout of spark-merging and otherwise arousing play.”

“Temperature regulation?”

Thundercracker wondered if Skywarp had only just guessed or known all along. He decided he did not want to know. He had known, before anyone else, that Skywarp was worthy of attention. He had known, when others thought him nothing but a coward. He had known when Starscream still considered them all expendable and mere weapons. Skywarp was exceptional, brilliant, beautiful to look upon, and he was Thundercracker's. He was also still afraid of many things, and anxious about many situations, and occasionally panicked, but he worked to not let it show. Thundercracker knew the effort Skywarp expended every cycle to face his fears and keep working.

“You know you are dear to me?”

“I know,” Skywarp said giddily. “I think we said it more in these last several cycles than in all the time before.” He laughed softly, “Usually you do not tell me, until I ask, and then you act offended, as if I should have known all along how you felt.”

True. “I do not wish to insult your intelligence and powers of perception by telling you too often.”

“You are afraid I would get a bit full of myself, if you told me how great I really am all the time.”

Thundercracker smirked. “I am afraid so.”

Skywarp wiggled his heels in Thundercracker's lap. “It was so good!” He said, again, “You were so good. We should do it again! Not right now, but, again.”

Thundercracker truly feared he would never be able to resist again. How, he wondered had he resisted so long? Yes, in the beginning, he had not even been considered of age, but after his conditional programming was triggered making him capable of such courting, mate-seeking and breeding activity - well there had been the disturbing images of dying sparklings. He had Starscream to thank for those memories. 

If he had known how it was, how it felt, how perfectly...perfect it was, he would have thought differently.

“Thundercracker?”

“Merging with you was perfect. I apologize, if I have not given you adequate assurance; I simply do not feel very talkative. But, please, continue to explain how good I made you feel.”

Skywarp laughed, because he understood Thundercracker was half-joking.

“Whose chamber is on this side?” Skywarp asked, tapping the adjacent wall with a knuckle. “Sunstorm?”

“Yes, Sunstorm. He is assigned to command deck third shift.”

Skywarp grinned. “So he would not have witnessed how many times I called your name?”

Thundercracker smiled to himself.

“What does he do?” Skywarp asked, with emphasis on 'do', such that Thundercracker now understood his meaning.

“I think when he's radiating he burns off any Cyber-pheromones in proximity, thus he is not easily attracted to others unless they are very forward or catch him when he is absorbing.”

Skywarp sighed and then went on talking again. “I think, with the sparks, it's like – if you think of things on a macro scale – a little like, maybe something that exists before a universe – if that is possible – or rather like-” he gestured with his hands, as if modeling a mass, and then shifted to lace his laws together, as if teeth in a gear wheels- “when you see images in stellar cartography of galaxies in the process of colliding – only, you are the galaxy, and you are aware of all the heat and light and gravitational forces and mass and space-time: everything. But also, and at the same time, it happens on a micro, even a quantum scale, with sub-atomic particles and energy states and – it's like being the galaxy in collision, aware of all the individual colliding stars and planets and molecules and electrons: everything. And! We could try, for all our long lives to study it, and express it, but however much progress we made, we would only really determined that it was infinitely more complex and infinitely more beautiful than we are even capable of comprehending.” Skywarp looked at the backs of his hands, as if seeing something.

“You are infinitely complex and beautiful.”

“I was serious.”

“So I was serious,” Thundercracker said.

Skywarp smiled that smile, the one that had no fear, that was peaceful and beautiful. Thundercracker lived for that smile. So long as he saw it, he knew he was the most gifted being in the universe.

All this that passed as reality was too often unworthy of them. There were some bright exceptions. They truly believed in their mission, for example, and had fondness for their kin, and some of their team. Slipstream, in particular had a certain worthiness. She had been theirs: sister and wing mate, before Starscream had been resurrected or decided he was going to truly consider them more than expendable tools. She and Scalpel were to date the only ones Thundercracker had trusted to stay close when he was in recharge.

“I think I need to wash,” Thundercracker said, “The shift is almost over. I have time for a little recharge before next shift.”

“I'm supposed to be on helm first shift!” Skywarp said.

“No, I asked Sunstorm to cover your shift when I planned to subdue you.”

“Oh. But you are still on?”

“We are a little more short-handed with Starscream and Slipstream both gone. It does not matter. I would prefer you to get some rest and then go let Scalpel check your systems. I am reasonably certain of my abilities in restoring those systems I disabled, but brilliant as I am, I must conceded I do not have specialized medical training.”

“That is very sound logic, Thundercracker. And, thank you for covering my shift.”

“Well, if we are serious about finding a third, we may have to switch shifts now and then, or even miss seeing each other for several shifts.”

“Oh. Right. So I can have time when others are off duty.”

“Barricade is off duty first shift.”

“Yes, usually I do not have the same off-shift as he, unless someone has requested to switch.” Thundercracker suspected the last off-shift they had shared had resulted in Skywarp acquiring a new tattoo.

“How did you leave it with him?”

“Not good. I think I can amend things, at least well enough to confirm whether he is even compatible, but he made a sort of ultimatum, which I refused to cave to.”

“I will leave it to you, unless you think otherwise?”

“Of course you are free to interact with the crew on your own,” Skywarp said, “but think I can handle the task.”

“May I know the form of the ultimatum?”

Skywarp pushed himself to a sitting position. “I can upload the memory. It might be clearer that way.”

“You are willing to share such details with me?”

Skywarp nodded. “After merging, I believe you know, at least to some extent, what my feelings toward him are.”

“I know, but another perspective....”

Skywarp reached for the port on the right side of his neck and extended the associated cable. He offered the end with the connector to Thundercracker. Thundercracker looked at the connector and then averted his gaze. “You do it.” He tilted his head to offer the port on the right side of his own neck.

“You know it's safe. You do not think my cables have been somewhere dirty.”

“Just do it. Quickly.” Perfectly normal thing to dislike connecting to other systems, Thundercracker told himself. They were simply unworthy of touching him. Not like Slipstream or Dirge: always connecting to things, to other mechanisms, for the slightest of reasons.

Thundercracker sensed the active connection, when Skywarp had plugged the cable into his port. He retained his consciousness, not daring to probe what lay beyond that connection, to virtually extend himself into another system. It did not matter that it was Skywarp, except that Thundercracker would be even less likely to tolerate the connection from another.

“I'll select the upload. You just need to receive the memory file.”

Thundercracker was more than capable of receiving the memory and storing it in his banks.

“Sync with me to watch it,” Skywarp suggested.

They were already connected, so no secondary connection was necessary, though Thundercracker usually chose wireless syncing, if he had a choice. He activated the synch subroutine and saw that Skywarp was ready. They often spent time reviewing past memory files Starscream had given them this way, synchronizing time codes to experience the memory together. They might discuss the memories afterward.

The memory Skywarp had supplied covered the period of time from meeting Barricade in his quarters during an off shift, until Skywarp left the quarters alone. Skywarp had left the blank in the memory, in which he had actually been unconscious.

“I was not in stasis alone with him,” Skywarp said, “the gap is when Stormshadow came out to show Barricade how to make the characters for the tattoo.”

“Stormshadow told me himself.” Thundercracker then said, “It is interesting.”

“What specifically?”

“That you still have not accessed Stormshadow's part of your memory bank to know what the tattoo is, but that Barricade seemed not to notice it was in any way significant that you said he could use your name.”

“Are the two related?” Skywarp asked. “And I do not suppose I would expect many Cybertronians to understand about honorifics. We do have rules for use of titles, ranks and short-forms of names, but the cultural significance is just alien in comparison.”

“You might find a way to let him know you allowed him permission to treat you on very familiar terms,” Thundercracker said. “I do require some recharge. You should have a little time next shift, after you tend to yourself, to catch him awake.”

“I will consider your advice.” Skywarp gently disconnected the cable between them and lay back.

Thundercracker looked on Skywarp half a klik and saw he rested peacefully. He let himself fall into recharge then, propped against the wall, Skywarp's feet slipping their way back into his lap.

Thundercracker onlined precisely on time, with margin enough to wash before his duty shift; he had alarms set to remind him before the start of every shift. He was most grateful that Imperials, like the Decepticons who shared common Cybertronian roots in their aerospace and computer technologies, believed that an integral part of maintaining status quo aboard a starship, long enough for all troops to reach their destination alive, was to give officers quarters private wash facilities, so as to avoid frequent assassination attempts in the communal wash stations.

Thundercracker saw Skywarp still recharge peacefully and went to the door. Exiting, Thundercracker checked that the security system was functioning correctly and that the door was locked to those entering from without. He walked along the corridors toward the command deck. At a tubolift, he waited.

There was a sound, almost like chain guns being fired; before Thundercracker could process the sound and identify with certainty, a turbofox darted around the curve in the corridor, which followed the contours of this deck. Thundercracker knew there were no real turbofoxes on the Lycoris. The fact that the turbofox did not react to his presence, and the fact that Drench came running after it informed Thundercracker that the turbofox was merely party of a holomatter training simulation.

Drench stopped suddenly when he saw Thundercracker was there. He was the sole youngling on their ship, offspring of Acid Storm and Overcast. Thundercracker knew him fairly well from their time in New Kaon. He had received his first set of youngling armor shortly before they boarded the Lycoris and his nanites were working every cycle to grow into the armor. As it was, he had lost the roundness of a sparkling and now looked spindly and wiry, as if his protoform layer had stretched to support the sleeker armor, without yet gaining substantial mass.

“I see you have new training weaponry, Drench.” There was a chain gun on his right arm, but it was low power and small calibre; the type of weaponry a sparkling or youngling naturally developed.

“Y-yes, Sir!” Drench made himself stand as straight as he could, pushing his shoulders back and chest outward in attempt to look larger or broader, though it made little difference. Still, Thundercracker was pleased with the attempt.

“It is good for you to practice, but the corridors are not the place. See there, you are leaving spent casings on the floor-plating. Unless you intend to set a cruel trap, you had best collect all your casings, and continue your training in the designated areas on the lower combat deck.”

“Yes, Sir!” Drench replied, again.

“As you were then. Clean up the casings.”

Thundercracker summoned the turbolift again. The door opened immediately this time and he continued on his way to the command deck.

Ramjet quickly, gratefully even, vacated the command chair as soon as he saw Thundercracker enter. It was a curious thing, but one Thundercracker had to acknowledge as truth, that for all of Starscream's past declarations of desiring leadership of the Decepticons, when he and his six clones came together for a mission, they did not argue over who would lead, but who would be second-in-command. It seemed after all, that each of them felt most comfortable being the power behind the throne, as it were, but shied from actually taking the position of next target for challenge or assassination in the volatile Decepticon hierarchy.

Thundercracker's ego was a gift in these circumstances, as it kept him from trying too hard not to lead. Skywarp, Slipstream and Starscream all naturally vied to be 'second-in-command', but Starscream's own arrogance could be used to manipulate him into a position of a figurehead, and Slipstream's evasive nature could be taken advantage of to get her to accept being third-in-command, even if she wanted second. Dirge wanted command, of course, but since all the others agreed he would never give back command once he had it, they worked together to keep him convinced it was better he commanded his own department and remain Chief Science Officer. Sunstorm's personality trait led him to tell everyone they would make a better leader, such that he ended up the lowest ranking clone.

Ramjet amused Thundercracker greatly. There had been a time when they had threatened each other; Thundercracker had perceived Ramjet's potential leadership ability and disliked him for it, even though Ramjet himself did not claim to want command. And lying or not, when emergency situations had demanded it, Ramjet had proven quite responsible and capable of command. He was not prone to inspiring speeches, but asked subordinates for input, made a command decision, and then announced his command in as brief a statement as possible so as to not confuse the crew.

He was always eager to give up his command if any higher ranked member of the team became available. Ramjet liked being the snarky subordinate and hated being representative of the command structure he preferred to mock.

Thundercracker took his seat and Ramjet said, obviously glad to be snarky again, “Glad to have you back, Oh Mighty Thundercracker.”

“Yes. I know you are.” Thundercracker then looked over the remainder of the bridge crew.

The shift change between the third and first shifts in their current rotation was one in which ever station was relieved. Thundercracker saw Thrust had arrived to relieve Vortex at the navigation console. Ramjet was now free to relieve Swindle at the weapons post, so he could go off-shift. Acid Storm had not yet reported. Thundercracker noted the count on his chronometer and compared it to that displayed on the console alongside his chair. 

“Acid Storm is not here?”

“Sir!” Sunstorm called, from the communications station, “I've just had a comm from medical. Acid Storm is not fit for duty this shift. I am not so skilled as he with communications, but I am willing to cover the shift.”

“I recall we discussed you would cover Skywarp's shift at helm.”

“Is Warp not well?” Barricade asked. As Swindle had been, he was at the end of a double shift and deserving of going off-duty for some recharge or recreation.

“He just got a bit tied-up on his off-shift and was unable to recharge,” Thundercracker said. He saw Barricade turned to look at him, with at least three of his optic lenses, glaring in understanding that Skywarp had been tied-up in the most literal sense. “And are you certain you should be using the Vice-Admiral's name in so familiar a manner, Sergeant?”

Barricade turned and grumbled something about working for his pay.

“Sir,” Vortex called. “I'm not cleared to pilot a ship of this class, but I am qualified to operate the weapons station.”

“Are you putting me on helm?” Ramjet asked, “It's not like I want any warning.”

“Sunstorm. Comm Thunderblast and inform her she is on standby to take a command deck station.”

“Understood! Excellent Decision.” Sunstorm said pleasantly.

“Barricade, you are relieved,” Thundercracker ordered, “Vortex, I note your initiative, relieve Ramjet at weapons. Ramjet, you will take the helm.”

“It makes such a difference, considering everything that is going on out there.”

“There is always something going on out there, even if its scale be at such a quantum, micro, or macro scale that you cannot presently perceive. Consider it training, if you must. Check your memory files. Missions are not only action with spectacular crashes and explosions. There is a lot of waiting for the right moment.”

“When the heavenly bodies are in the correct alignment, we will act,” Thrust droned.

“Thrust,” Thundercracker called, “the log from last shift indicates the Cocytus is positioned at Triton and the Acheron is soon to make its final jump to the rendezvous point. I request you begin new calculations for a sub-light course to the inner planets, departing within the next shift rotation, or alternate windows available afterward.”

Once Thundercracker had the duty roster and assignments settled, the decacycle-long shift passed without incident, until its midpoint, at which there was a loud, sickening, metal on metal crush was heard from somewhere below. “Status,” Thundercracker ordered, checking his own command console.

Sound did not propagate out into the void of space as radio waves might, but it did carry very well through the interior of their starship with its metal frame. The sound had been perceived on the command deck, but it might have happened some distance below or behind. “Fire suppression activated in the corridor on deck three,” he noted.

“No weapons discharge whatsoever,” Vortex reported.

“No collision, no enemy contact,” Ramjet said.

“Sunstorm comm medical. It is Scalpel's shift. Comm Red Alert to be on standby to assist.”

“She is en route,” Ramjet reported, through bond or personal comm, it was faster for him to send the message to his mate.

“Sunstorm, send the official comm to her,” Thundercracker said.

“Drones report sign of suppressed fire near turbolift gamma,” Vortex reported from the weapons station, which also controlled drone deployment. “traces of debris containing Cybertronian alloys, oil, and energon-based fuel. And, two sets of tire marks.”

Racing? In the corridors? “It sounds like we have injured.”

Runabout and Runamuck? Thundercracker would be disappointed if it were they; he had given them the duty of performing ship's security functions in the hopes that they understood that they would be accountable for stopping mischief, even if they were the ones starting it. There were only six grounders on the ship presently. It was true they carried additional team members, acquired in their exodus, within stasis pods, but there was no sign they had been disturbed. Red Alert was on her way to medical. That left Swindle, Barricade, Dead End and the two Battlechargers.

And turbolift gamma was just where Thundercracker had been earlier, where he seen Drench. “I am going down there-”

“Medical comm, Sir,” Sunstorm interrupted, “It's Dead End. He crashed. Barricade just escorted him in.

“I am going,” Thundercracker said.

“Slag it,” Ramjet hissed.

“Ramjet, you are in command at the helm. Call in Thunderblast, if you need any further coverage. Sunstorm is cleared to pilot, if you have the need.”

Thundercracker left the command deck and took the turbolift down to deck three. The site of the crash was as Vortex had described. A few drones were still patrolling the area. Thundercracker activated what external lighting he had on his wings and stooped to look at the flooring. He saw no casings. He was relieved then. Drench could not have, even unintentionally, caused the accident.

Thundercracker became aware of an incoming comm. Red Alert. “Thundercracker, Sir! I highly suggest you come immediately to med-bay 3.”

Thundercracker began moving toward the medical bay at the rear of the ring of personal quarters that formed deck three. “What is the situation.”

“Dirge had arrived. I think there is going to be a fight, and we already have four patients.”

Four? “En Route now!” Thundercracker hurried, flying part of the way.

When he arrived, he saw the usually orderly and sterile chamber in a state of chaos. Dead End was lying in surgery at the rear compartment of the bay, with Scalpel skittering over his body giving commands to medical drones. Midway through the interior, Acid Storm sat unattended upon a bench and ventilating rapidly as he clutched his claws over his chest. Nearer to the entrance, Barricade sat on another bench, swatting at Red Alert who was attempting to clean wounds on his helm and faceplate with her medi-tool appendage. And then, just inside the entrance, Dirge and Skywarp, both disgracefully lacking different pieces of armor were against the interior wall. Skywarp had his left-hand claws bracing Dirge's fusion cannon to the wall, with the remainder of his effort was put into keeping Dirge from lunging toward Barricade.

“What the frag is going on here?” Thundercracker demanded. He quickly unplugged the cannon previously belonging to Megatron from the port on Dirge's right arm. “For Spark's sake, Skywarp, release him. You do not truly wish to endanger your younger brother's newspark.”

“I merely thought it wise to keep them from going at it in here,” Skywarp explained. He stepped back, optics still trained on Dirge.

Thundercracker saw Dirge smile smugly as he straightened himself.

“Dirge, you look a disgrace! You should not be entering combat of any kind. And where is your helm?” He was starting to look more 'mad' than 'scientist', with the spectacles, and now exposing the three-part gold crest on his head for all to see.

“I could not decide which helm I wanted to wear most,” Dirge answered. Of course, their greedy little brother had a whole collection of helms. Even Thundercracker only had two. Other he had seen were not worthy of his regalness.

“If you ever have doubt again, consider it an order that you wear your original one, rather than enter common areas in such a state unfitting a Decepticon. And, Skywarp, what is your excuse?”

“I-I was here to get it fixed.” He pivoted to hide his left leg behind his right. “I – uh – must have snapped the latch when I removed it, in private of course, strictly for purposes of washing and maintenance. It is just a small part, but I could not make the repair myself. I require a replacement part. And...” He whispered, “Scalpel did not have time to finish fabricating, or checking my weapons systems before the emergency.”

Thundercracker felt his field contract with embarrassment. He had broken Skywarp's armor. He had not realized he snapped the latch, but he remembered removing the leg armor rather forcefully in the heat of passion. “Yes, well, that is a legitimate medical reason, then.”

“You came at me without weapons systems functional?” Dirge whispered, though not out of Thundercracker's hearing.

“I-I suppose so,” Skywarp said timidly, “Scalpel was in the middle of his tests.”

“Pretty brave for you, isn't it?” Dirge asked off-handedly.

“Can I go now?” Barricade interrupted.

“No!” Thundercracker commanded, and looked then at Barricade directly.

“He is being very uncooperative,” Red Alert said. “His self repair systems might handle this.”

“I don't need any help!” Barricade insisted. “I don't need anyone fighting my fights! I don't need all this caring! I especially do not need this Autobot all over me!” He snapped then at Red Alert, as if he really meant to bite her tool. “Cid looks about ready to pop-out a newspark any second, and Skywarp's somehow managed to get his weapon systems deactivated in his off-shift!”

“That is enough!” Thundercracker ordered.

“I am really all right,” Acid Storm called. “I am merely experiencing some premature field contractions. I am not due to transfer yet.”

“Surely this atmosphere is not most conducive to your recovery,” Thundercracker suggested, “Perhaps if we can find you escort to a quieter place.” Thundercracker was going to suggest someone else who had carried a newspark to term sit with Acid Storm, but then when he went down the crew roster in his processor, he could not think of one. “Do we really have no one else on this entire ship who has carried to term before?”

“Overcast,” Barricade said.

“Drench,” Red Alert whispered.

Drench was a youngling. Then, Thundercracker realized Red Alert was indicating that she saw Drench was with them, listening. He was peering about the edge of the open doorway.

Barricade spoke before anyone else was able to answer. He went immediately to his Good Cop voice. “Hey, Drench, I am sorry I can't train with you right now. I promise, everyone here is fine. You trust me. There is nothing here you need to see. Everything is being taken care of. You need to go.”

“No one got hurt?”

“Go, Drench!” Barricade snapped.

Thundercracker saw Drench run along the corridor. He coded the door control and the doors slid shut. “You need to tell me what happened,” he said to Barricade.

“I can tell you!” Dirge said.

“Skywarp, take Acid Storm up to med-bay 1, with the protoforms. Just as a precaution.”

Skywarp pressed past Thundercracker and around the nearby work tables, walking past the bench where Barricade was seated, in order to reach Acid Storm. His leg, Thundercracker thought, was a gorgeous piece of machinery! That such perfectly predatory air power could evolve was nearly enough to temp a mechanism to believe in Intelligent Design. Without the covering armor, in motion, it was hypnotic in its beauty. A matrix of servos, hydraulics, cables, fuel lines and support struts laced about the inner workings of a turbine. The cluster of nozzles for space mode propulsion or added atmospheric maneuverability hung like a jeweled ornament, just atop the joint at which the foot spread into heel and forward talon.

“It reeks in here!” Barricade complained.

Red Alert moved further away from him and went to some medical devices arranged atop one of the tables.

Thundercracker saw that Skywarp put himself under Acid Storm's left arm. The air rushed audibly to fill the void where they had been as Skywarp warped them out.

“It is all Barricade's fault!” Dirge accused.

Thundercracker used his superior powers of concentration to refocus on the matter at hand: not Skywarp's armor-bared limbs. “What do you mean by that?”

“He was after Dead End!”

“He invited me to race him!” Barricade growled.

“And you cheated!”

“It was an accident!”

A comm came to Thundercracker. Red Alert again, 'Sir, I just checked; Cyber-pheromones are elevated within the med-bay. I think it might have been Dead End, but now Barricade is over-producing, and Dirge's state is not exactly helping matters.'

'Understood.' Dirge was even more possessive than usual, considering one of his mates who had helped conceived the newspark he was carrying was now lying in surgery. “Dirge, Do allow me to handle Barricade's discipline. Tell, me, where is Swindle now?”

“He's recharging in our quarters.” Dirge said, and then suddenly raged; the plates of his crest snapping fully erect, “You always assign us opposite shifts! He's too tired to drive with Dead End and I can't do grounder things! It's your fault!”

“My fault now, is it? Seeker, you will go immediately to your quarters! You and Swindle are both to remain there or in designated recreation areas for the remainder of this shift and the duration of the next. I will have Scalpel inform you of Dead End's status at his own convenience and discretion! Is that understood? Dirge!”

“Yes, My Leader!”

“Go. Now.”

Dirge coded open the door and left the med-bay.

“Now.”

“Oh, please more Seeker courtship display!” Barricade ranted.

Thundercracker remained calm, telling himself that it was illogical to rise to any of Barricade's taunts, as he was under the effects of overly high Cyber-pheromone levels. Eventually, without exposure to other hyper-aroused Cybertronians, or any specific triggers to his own pheromone production, he should regain full use of his faculties. Meanwhile he needed to work out his need for aggressive posturing.

“Why where you racing in the corridors?”

“Oh, here it is! The old double standard!” Barricade ranted, claws thrown up to punctuate his dissatifaction. “Oh, please, don't lock me in that little cell where I can't even see the sky! I'm a slaggin' Seeker! We need to fly! I swear I'll die! Please, please, I'll do anything!”

“That is quite amusing,” Thundercracker said coolly. Presumably this was intended as imitation of Seeker prisoners, but there was no song to the words, just an extra high pitch to that static drawl so many grounders had.

“And you never think, not one of you fliers, that maybe we can have a mechological imperative to drive! That maybe we suffer just as much in a little box. That we need the speed and acceleration and traction. Maybe we just need to burn rubber sometimes!”

Truthfully, Thundercracker had never considered this. Barricade had a point. Thundercracker glanced at Red Alert. She made a slight nod. Maybe they would not truly die from not driving, just as a Seeker would not literally die from not flying, but neither would they be healthy and mentally stable.

“Come with me,” Thundercracker said.

“Don't touch me!” Barricade shouted. “All of you! With your reek of volatile fuel and wings and promises of bondage and your cables!”

“What cables?”

“Dirge with his fraggin' cables trying to dive me like he knows anything about interrogation!” Barricade slipped down from the bench and walked to the door. He coded the control. Thundercracker followed behind him.

“Tell me what really happened.”

Barricade turned around. “I told all of you. Dead End invited me to race. I agreed. He had an accident. I took him to medical. Couldn't have gotten there faster with a light bar on my back.”

“Yes, but the part with Dirge and Skywarp.”

“Dead End must have been conscious enough to comm Dirge. He came. Fast. Put his slaggin' cables on me! And then Warp went at Dirge like Dirge had dared touch something that was his.”

“Skywarp may have given you permission to address him familiarly, but that does not imply you should use his short-form name carelessly in front of others.”

“I am not talking about Warp to others. I am talking to you, Sir! I am sick of it! I need to be able to fight my own fights! I'm not right for this mission. I can't take all these displays and fraggin' posturing. I have no privacy on this ship!”

“You are assigned quarters.”

“Yes, General, but apparently those of us who work for our pay don't rate private wash areas. Dead End is-” apparently even Barricade in his rage did not want to speak against the injured mech. “I shouldn't have done it.”

“I know what it is like. The smell. The feeling that it lingers. All the slight touches, the accidental brushes as others pass. It clings to you. You just want to get your work done, but it seems like there are purposeful temptations and distractions all about you. Soiling you. Making you feel you might be the dirty one.”

Barricade nodded. Then he said, a little more calmly, “You are starting to see how the old way was necessary, even if it cost us the future of the faction. How are we supposed to accomplish anything like this?”

“Come on.” Thundercracker gestured for Barricade to follow.

“I am not going anywhere alone with you. No. Not even you!”

“You want to fight here then?” Thundercracker asked. And, if it had escaped Barricade's faulty logic circuits, they were already alone.

“What do you want to fight about? Warp? I told him to go away!” Thundercracker knew for a fact that was not quite how it had gone. “I know that he is yours. Screw that brig-bait! I am not that stupid.”

“Right now, you are acting just a little stupid,” Thundercracker said crossly, “Like it or not, I am your General, Soldier and you just insulted a member of your chain of command. But, I will accept that you were speaking off-the-record about a personal problem that shall not affect your professional performance again. I was not suggesting a duel, as if Skywarp can be won like some cheap prize. I was merely proposing a sparing match to release some of that aggression you have built-up within you.”

“Sure you want to fight? I don't think you can afford to lose any more bridge crew.”

They fought anyway, in one of the larger training rooms on the command deck. No death match, no official challenge of leadership. Just a bit of sparing. Thundercracker knew he differed a little from other Seekers in his interest in melee combat. He reviewed Starscream's memories of every time he saw Megatron duel. He had fought for prizes as well as honor in arenas in New Kaon. He had trained a short while with Banzaitron there. Recently, Thunderblast had been his sparring partner.

The swords were trophies from combat with Cyclonus, as was his helm.

Barricade fought him blade wheel against sword. Thundercracker was more practiced with using two swords in tandem, but it seemed dishonorable against the one wheel. The blade wheel was an intimidating weapon, a series of sharp blades that extended from within the wheel at the back of Barricade's left hand. He could make a quick jabbing punch that extended the entire wheel beyond the usual reach of his arm, as well as move the wheel in any direction he was normally able to move his hand, while the blades spun about the central axis of the wheel.

It was to Thundercracker's thinking, not an elegant weapon, but more effective that he had expected, in Barricade's control. Still, it had its weaknesses. When extended, the wheel altered the balance of Barricade's entire arm and he required more force to lift his arm, and moved more slowly. Also, as with many spinning weapons or rotors, a weapon or device of suitable strength could jam the spokes and stop the spin.

Barricade was stronger than Thundercracker would have guessed. “The term is 'muscle car',” Barricade had taunted, when Thundercracker tried to give him some credit. And he was fast, for a grounder. But Thundercracker ultimately did have the advantage. His height gave him leverage enough that he easily could have taken Barricade's entire arm off, if he chose. He was fast as well.

Barricade fell when Thundercracker got a solid hit to his right arm. Thundercracker had used the back of his sword, and had not even activated the sword's field that would have enabled it to slice smoothly through Cybertronian alloys, yet the strike, combined with Barricade's Cyber-pheromone affected state and exhaustion disabled the right arm and sent Barricade to his knees.

Thundercracker honorably went to help him up. He half-expected the fall to be a feint, and for Barricade to attach again, but he was really down. The blades on his left arm retracted. He did not look good. Something spilled from a compartment in his disabled arm.

“Those are casings from Drench's chain gun,” Thundercracker whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I saw him, earlier, training in the corridor near turbolift gamma.”

“I could have gotten Dead End to medical just a little faster, if I had not picked these up.”

“Scalpel and Red Alert will help him.”

Barricade laughed humorlessly, “The doctors are both specialists in Seekers, not grounders.”

“No doubt you will rant again, if I am mistaken in my arrogance, but how different can you be from Autobots?”

Another laugh. “Not that different, when it comes to bare metal.”


	6. Chapter 6

Barricade was in his personal quarters on the Lycoris, alone, just trying to get a virtual grasp on things. He was afraid he was pretty much screwed. He had gone and drawn the attention of his commanding officer. Not just some mech one rank above him, the 'Decepticon Leader'. Granted Decepticon leaders were more common than some (Read: Autobots) thought, but Thundercracker counted, at least out here in this jurisdiction.

If he were back in New Kaon, then it would be all about Megatron, but he was nowhere near New Kaon now, or Cybertron for that matter. And, Barricade was quickly coming to realize, nothing he had learned, serving undercover among Autobots, or under Megatron on his former starship (now a wreck on Luna), had really prepared him for this mission.

He had even thought he was all right with Seekers. They had seemed amusing enough when there were just a few at a time. Starscream with his lack of street smarts, for one. Or Acid Storm. Barricade though he might even have enjoyed and respected Cid in a professional respect if they had continued working together, without so many others around. Acid Storm's own data marshalling skills included a willingness to remain an anonymous operator, under others' notice and a gift for gaining trust that made him popular choice as confidant. It was a secret that his true loyalty had always been with Starscream. Barricade and Acid Storm were a lot alike in their methods, except for that Starscream part. 

Drench had (very much past tense) seemed just as tolerable. Barricade had really gone and gotten himself noticed over the little mech. He hated younglings, really, just for this reason. He couldn't screw them over. It just wasn't in his programming. Evolutionarily speaking (or speaking of Primus) it wouldn't really make sense to have adults feel predatory toward the young, but that didn't really make him feel better about it. The feeling of needing to protect others, and not only from himself was alien. He was no one's Guardian! Barricade was no kid-friendly 'Bot!

He remembered being a pretend-Autotrooper and being ordered to an Autobot classroom, where a pink teacher-bot had explained to the younglings that the 'nice officers' were going teach them about road safety. The little 'Bots had only thought it funny (and perversely educational) when he demonstrated what not to do on a road.

Now, because of Drench, he had this big secret he shared with Thundercracker. They were now co-conspirators in a cover-up. It was no way to remain an average Decepticon or escape notice for special assignments. Barricade was supposed to be amused by the delicious drama of other mechs, not be in a drama!

The whole incident with Dead End was humiliating. He did not even want to think about it! Embarrassing enough he had somehow been taken in by the little vamp (in oh so many senses of the word); it had led to getting caught up in a slagload of Seeker courtship display, and, apparently, going into hyper-arousal himself and responding with some pretty pathetic aggressive posturing.

And again: more attention from his leader, whom he had ended up sparing with, sharing the guilt of cover-up with, and possibly showering with.

Barricade was a bit sketchy on that last part. His chronometer had informed him that, after he overheated from all the arousal, aggression, and exertion, there was time enough for Thundercracker to carry him from the training room on the combat deck to the quarters he shared with Skywarp, with a margin of at least a klik. When he had onlined, Barricade had been slumped in their wash area under cool running water and Thundercracker had not been too close; but Barricade could not really trust Thundercracker's word on what had happened immediately prior to that. 

Either way, it just did not look good to come from his commanding officer's quarters on his off-shift like that. Frag, Starscream was supposed to be the negative attention Seeker (loved that joke). But no, that was back in the time of Megatron prowling this cluster of the Orion Spur. Apparently Barricade had now become mech most likely to get either hit-on or killed by his commanding officer.

And it was double the trouble, considering Skywarp was the Second-in-Command on this team.

Warp. He had started this whole drama. Barricade had no clue how to handle him. He had already expended quite a few of his usual tricks. His most recent plan had been to break things off and forget about him, but it hadn't worked very well.

One, that plan had led to getting attention from Thundercracker, who was Skywarp's own lover. (They did not even pretend very well to be otherwise, considering there was only the one berth in their shared quarters.) Two, missing the attention he had been getting from Skywarp was probably what left him so open to temptation from Dead End. Three, he was finding it impossible to get Warp off his processor.

Even here, he had no peace. Maybe if he had never allowed Warp inside his quarters, it would not be so easy to imagine him here. And then, he would not feel so wretched that Skywarp was not actually in his quarters.

Barricade shivered, remembering how Thundercracker had so coolly offered that Barricade could feel welcome to visit their quarters from now on, seeing as how the communal wash facility was not to his liking.

That was just the kind of protection (read: thinly veiled exploitation) he did not need. He'd grown up in barracks. He'd worked undercover as an Autotrooper and occasionally guarded prisoners. Barricade had a pretty good understanding of how hierarchies formed in such institutional environments. Everyone categorized as predator or prey. No. Barricade was just average. Not so special as to be pursued or chosen for anything unpleasant. Not so weak to seem easy prey. Just average. Stay under their sensors.

Not that he believed in any sense of cosmic intelligence or design, but Barricade half-wondered if all of this might be payback for taking favors from a few Decepticon prisoners, in exchange for allowing them to escape from Autobot prison. No. That kind of behavior was expected! He was a bad cop. Bad, bad, bad.

Slagging Seekers were wrecking his plan. He was noticed. He'd tried to make it clear he could fight his own fights, but it still looked to others like he'd let Skywarp defend him from Dirge, lost a match to Thundercracker, and possibly accepted some kind of special favors from their commanding officer.

Bad, bad bad! It was all going to the Pit in a compactor cube!

He so needed a way to repair his rep. Average Decepticon. Decent fighter. Just smart enough to not be useless aboard a starship. Sneaky. Evil! Manipulate other for his own dark purposes.

What he really needed was it for to be wartime so he could go take his frustration out on an Autobot. Not a really powerful Autobot so as to get too much notice or credit, just a little one. Carry their head around as a trophy for a short while, until it was firm in everyone's processors that they did not want to mess with him.

Skywarp should be afraid of him. Not 'fear losing what we have'.

Warp. 1. bad-aft teleporter, 2. nice colors; likes tats, 3. hilarious satirical sense of humor with demonstrated role-play skills, 4. not as cowardly as reported, 5. kinda twisted, really, 6. coy and manipulative, 7. possible bondage fetish, 8. likes games, 9. asserting dominance could be compensation for previously reported cowardice, 10. already made physical contact and suggested interest, 11. Name usage, 12. Did mad, perverse science to own processor.

No. Nothing to see here. Go about your business. Nothing to lose.

Barricade was pinged by the Luna battlenet. They had never actually had battle since he joined the team, but he'd been equipped to receive team-wide comms, as was the rest of the team. Not having battle, the scheme was usually used for querying the entire team to ask where a missing item was located or relaying duty assignments.

No audio signal, but there was a data stream. Barricade checked it out and found a new duty schedule had been devised. He was still assigned to helm second and third shifts. He saved the information and then sat up his berth. There was a small metal cart he had previous wheeled to his berth side.

Barricade lifted the bottle of coolant formulated for his system, from the cart and poured a guesstimated amount into a beverage container. He cut it with water from another bottle.

Slagging Cyber-pheromone hyper-arousal. It was not supposed to happen this soon into a space voyage or in such a thinly populated ship. And, it was not supposed to happen, except in some kind of extraordinary circumstances to a mech his age. Barricade drank down half the coolant solution; he needed it. Maybe the rarity of hyper-arousal was all cover story, and it was more frequent among Cybertronians than pompous, formal militaristic factions wanted mechs to know.

Still probably the Seekers' faults, somehow. It was supposed to happen to young Cybertronians around the time they got final upgrades; when they became capable of breeding for the first time. The first time, not stellar cycles later!

Still, they had obviously gotten to Swindle, and he was even even older than Starscream, plus had a pretty heavy reputation for casually indulging in intimate slag just short of breeding. Now he was bringing Dirge gifts, for free! And Starscream was literally crazy about Slipstream. He used to be the one to play clueless and hard to get, not to mention arrogant; now he went to effort to prove his worthiness to her, and had Barricade proof his math to prove it was theoretically possible for him to catch her in the air. (It was actually impossible for either of them to catch the other in the air, due to air pressure differential created by the pursuit of one behind the other, which gave the pursued a relative speed advantage, even as the pursuer in their slipstream saved fuel. Barricade and Skywarp still had cycles of fun sitting around proofing math for Starscream, while they commed to each other that the obvious solution, unless they continue their chase until one ran out of fuel, was that one of them had to choose to stop playing hard to get and just choose to allow themselves to be caught.) 

It was hilarious when it happened to others! Not so funny that Barricade really wanted Warp back, even though he knew it was not smart.

Barricade thought he better take another look at the new duty assignments, to see if there were significant changes in the teammates he would be spending time with.

There was a knock at his door. He did not wonder who it might be. “Go away! I gave at the office!”

“I just want to apologize for insulting your honor, unintentionally, of course,” Skywarp said. The clones – with exception of Slipstream who was femme – all had identical vocalizers, but usually the manner of speech gave them away. This was Skywarp, coyly pleading, although with some obvious coaching from Thundercracker as evidence by 'insulting your honor'.

“Apology accepted. Go away.”

“But I really need to apologize faceplate-to-faceplate.”

Bet you do, Barricade thought. That kind of apology was tempting, especially as he was still coming down from a hyper-aroused state. “Contagious medical condition. Better stay away. I have scraplets!”

“There are no scraplets on our ship,” Skywarp insisted. 

Barricade started a count: millicycles until Skywarp used his ability and just warped in uninvited.

“I do have some wish to respect your privacy,” Skywarp claimed.

Barricade got up, carrying his drink, and walked to the door. He coded it open, saw Skywarp looking down at him, then stepped aside. Skywarp floated into the room. Not literally, though he could have hovered on thrusters if he wanted it; he just had that Starscream-esque way of moving. It was like they didn't have land legs.

Skywarp eyed the contents of the cart and then Barricade's drink. “You really are unwell?”

“Overheated,” Barricade muttered. It was an embarrassing condition, one a mech in their right mind should easily have been able to prevent with proper intake of fluids, or by avoiding outrageously stupid forms of exertion on top of lack of recharge. Then he said, “But I'm sure TC told you all about it. Probably traded you the memory file for some tidbit you had.”

“No. He just summarized,” Skywarp claimed. Maybe it was true. Then Skywarp would not also know about Drench. “And he did not mention allowing you to call him that. Even I do not call Thundercracker that out loud.”

“That was just my outright disrespect.” Barricade took another drink; almost finished the dose. “You were going to apologize.” He took the last swig of coolant and put his container back on the cart.

“I understand that you are offended that I came between Dirge and yourself, that in some way harmed your reputation by both insinuating you could not defend yourself, and by being the one to stop Dirge, implying possession of you in some fashion.”

“Yeah, that's about it.”

“I am sorry. That was not my intent. I merely thought it wise to stop Dirge from fighting.”

“I accept your apology, again, but damage's done.” Barricade looked at Skywarp expectantly, daring him to offer compensation.

“It really offends you?”

Barricade shrugged, maybe showed off his arms a bit. “I suppose you never suffer with the coward reputation?”

Skywarp smiled slyly. “Well, I have, but unlike you, I have no problem whatsoever with it being known my loyalty is with a very strong protector, and I don't care if I get a reputation for being coy for making that alliance.”

“Well, I don't want to just be...an ornament on some mech's arm.” Barricade knew, after he said it, that he'd left himself open to be mocked.

“You just like ornaments on your arms.” Skywarp pouted cutely. “Sorry. That was unkind. I like your tats, Cade. Maybe-”

“Did you – I mean, do you know, about the tattoo? On your back?”

“No. I did not allow myself to know. I think one day you will tell me what you put there.”

Barricade nodded, not certain he agreed he would one day supply this information, just nodding.

“Why do you think you care so much what others think of you?”

“I don't care what anyone thinks!”

“Yes, you do. You do not want to be arm-candy,” Skywarp said, using one of his alien Earth terms, “I do not mind if others think me arm-candy, because I know I am not. I am much more than that.”

“I know you are.” He was a manipulative, power-behind-the-throne ornament.

“And you are much more, Cade. It is not, I think, that you care what others think in the most general sense. After all, you are content, if they think what you want them to think.”

“Yes,” Barricade agreed reluctantly. If he wanted them to think he was a friend, or if he wanted them to think he was average, they did. Or, at least they had. He was really off his game recently.

“I wonder what you want me to think of you.”

Slag it, Warp knew, didn't he? He was smart. Could figure things out. He knew too much. It was dangerous. Not to plan. A weakness.

“You want to fight your own fights?” Skywarp asked crossly.

“Yeah, I do,” Barricade snapped.

“No special protection?”

“Pit no!”

Skywarp moved, fast, but he didn't seem to use his transwarp ability. He pinned Barricade against the interior wall; high on the wall, so their optics were level. All four lenses focused on Skywarp's optics, watching for a sign of intent. His foot spikes could do serious damage to Warp's internal systems right now, and Barricade would bet they both knew it.

Fast, again. Warp pressed their mouths together. Barricade did not fight it. He wrapped his legs about Warp's midsection; grasped for a hold on him with the claws of his left hand.

There was, then, space between them. Barricade saw his helm had pierced Skywarp's faceplate. He would have to do something about that, if-

“That taste. Your coolant?”

“That's no coolant!”

The kiss again. Barricade scraped sharp dental plates against Skywarp's sensor nodule as it came for a sample. Barricade had kissed others, a few. He'd heard more than a few gossip about their own experiences. A lot said it was sweet. Sometimes it was spicy or smoky. The point was, he guessed, that whatever taste you were looking for, you just knew when you found it.

It was like darkness had a taste! Faintly bitter, rich, deep, strong. It was so strong! Barricade felt every servomotor in his shell seize. Everything was tension for a beat, and then blissfully relaxed. Breeding protocols started pinging him again. He shut them down quickly. Message received, loud and clear; he could make newsparks with this mech. Not quite the first thing on his processor!

He wanted to rip Warp apart! Get inside him. His engine roared. Skywarp carried Barricade from the wall. He skipped backwards and then turned to lay Barricade's back against his berth.

“Frag, Warp!” Barricade's spark was spinning within his chest.

“I have to go.” Skywarp's vocalizer was static-laced. He spoke again, more firmly. “Command deck. Was supposed to be quick. Have to go.” 

“Are you slaggin' me?” Barricade shouted.

“It's good. Really good, with you. Duty.”

Barricade lay trembling on his berth. He was – going to need more coolant.

Skywarp withdrew. Those fluid, floaty gestures.

Three lenses on the ceiling. One watching Skywarp. “Warp.”

“Yes, Cade?”

“We can keep this on the down low? Right?”

“Keep what...?” That had better be his hilariously perverse sense of humor, Barricade thought.

“This. Us. Not broadcast to everyone.”

“Can we? You are the one who gave the ultimatum.”

Barricade was about to trash a few things, starting with Skywarp, but it seemed his logic circuits were at least half functional. Warp liked games. And, it was true Barricade had been the aft who forced the situation to the stupid ultimatum out of misguided fear. “Warp, when I tried to call you 'Warp-kun', and you said I could use only your name, and you didn't stop me from saying 'Warp', that was significant, wasn't it?”

“You trying to get a confession out of me?” Warp leaned his wings against the closed door. He stretched his arms overhead and appeared to push his hips outward. The way he moved looked the way Barricade had felt: like a vicious twinge of pleasure ran through his servos and then, he was just relaxed.

“You fraggin' spark-tease!” Barricade rolled to his side, but then thought better of it and winced slightly as he put weight on his right arm. His systems were still repairing the damage taken in the sparring match. He quickly flipped to his back. Probably for the best Warp leave him to recover. “I know it means something,” he said seriously. “I think the action of permitting the usage communicates something you did not otherwise tell me in words.”

“Yes.” Skywarp smirked. He was so determined to keep the mystery alive!

“I trust you,” Barricade said, mostly looking at his ceiling. “That's half. There might have been a bit of a language barrier in conveying the most accurate tense and conjugation, but the puppet said I did it right.”

“Not your usual perverse sense of humor,” Skywarp observed. That he spoke with such certainty that the tattoo was not intended in satire was just as significant as the tattoo itself.

“Been off my game recently.”

Skywarp sighed softly then keyed the door to open, it was not locked to those on the inside. “Did you receive the new duty assignments?” He asked and then left without waiting for a reply.

Barricade remembered he had been about to recheck the assignments. A drink first, though. That Seeker got him hot.

Just as he had noted the first time, Barricade was assigned to helm second and third shifts. There was no command deck station without changes. Engineering and Medical were the only posts unchanged. Dirge's shifts in Science department were slightly different, probably to reflect changes to give him common off-shifts with his mates.

This looked likely. Weapons and Command stations were heavily revised, and Swindle who had previously worked the same shifts as Barricade, now only worked first shift, taking over Ramjet's former shift at the weapons station. Cid and Ramjet had their total shifts reduced, probably because both carried newsparks. Vortex was taking up the slack on weapons, Thunderblast on Navigation to make-up for Vortex's reassignment, and Sunstorm adding a shift at communications. Ramjet was no longer on weapons at all, but on helm when Barricade got his off-shift.

Command? No Ramjet. Just Thundercracker and Skywarp, without the notes that said 'or Starscream' and 'or Slipstream' that used to be on the old schedule. Thundercracker first shift, Thundercracker or Skywarp alternating coverage of second shift, and Warp third shift. It did not make a difference to Barricade he was used to taking orders from either of them, except...well, except he noticed he and Warp consistently had first shift off together. At least, 'together' was the implication.

Barricade wondered which of them had made this schedule. Thundercracker and Skywarp now had no common off-shift and were never assigned to the command deck at the same time. They were still lovers; Barricade was certain of it. Had they purposely given the rest of the crew off-shifts with their mates at the expense of their own relationship?

Or...? Barricade had a terrible suspicion he was the new Ramjet, and was going to be acting commander at the helm whenever his superior officers needed to be together. But, first shift off with Warp, every rotation. Had they found his price?

They had so found his price. Barricade envisioned a typical interrogation. Some hypothetical Good Cop was speaking pleasantly to him, “What can I get for you to make you feel more comfortable? I want to get that for you, but I need your help.”

Barricade saw himself, broken, answering, “Just give me Skywarp. Warp is mine: I tell you anything you want to know.” 

The list continued: 13. Tastes like darkness itself; fully compatible mate.

Lucky thirteen.

Barricade prepared another dose of coolant along with an energon ration. He drank, not trying to think of anything in particular. He recharged then, letting his systems run maintenance and repair while he was in stasis. When he woke, later, in time to report for third shift, he vaguely recalled some random sensory data from memory that had replayed in his processor: flashes of past experiences in physical pleasures accompanied by Skywarp's physics discussions.

A lot of those past experiences that looked like sharing pleasure had been very one-sided. Barricade was not self-deluded on that account. It had been about him seeking another way to control, or about pleasure used as a bargaining piece in friendly negotiations, whether he was taking what he wanted, or granting someone else a favor to get what he really wanted. And, all the time, Warp's voice colored by all his genuine interest in a shared field of knowledge describing the way the unattached end of a theoretical one-dimensional string slid all over the surface of a membrane.

Barricade got up and went to his storage locker for a clean polishing cloth. He went over helm procedures in preparation for his shift. It helped push the random recharge images from his processor. He wiped himself down to be certain he had no glaring spill, spots or scuffs on his armor. Thundercracker in particular was strict about his team having proper appearance at all times.

When Barricade got to the command deck, he realized just how short-staffed the earlier emergencies and medical matters had left them. No one was at Weapons station. Skywarp was in command at the helm. No one was at navigation. Thrust was at communications. And most unusually, the command chair was occupied by a recharging Drench.

Sunstorm came in, just after Barricade, complimenting Skywarp for being so magnanimous as to allow him half a shift to recharge, after he had worked nearly a full rotation, between covering for Acid Storm and continuing to work his own shifts, and how he was so glad to be back serving such an efficient commander.

Just what Barricade was looking forward to: more flustered Seekers. He crept quietly toward the pilot's seat, beside which Warp now stood glaring at his brother clone. “Perhaps you would be glad to receive a transfer to serve aboard and Autobot ship?” Skywarp posed shrilly, sounding very close to Starscream in a rant, “I seem to recall they like to use gags and always have an opening for a Seeker in their science department!”

Sunstorm looked ready to compliment Skywarp on how well he had put him in his place, but Vortex and Thunderblast arrived. Thrust left, quietly; probably thanking the stars Skywarp had not singled him out.

“Helm is yours, Barricade,” Skywarp said quickly. Then, with more of his usual commanding calm Skywarp began a briefing, which was fairly customary for the start of a shift in which he was at command. The briefings ranged from hilarious to surprisingly informative, depending on what was going on during a given shift.

“We have a launch window during this shift,” Skywarp explained to them. He and Thrust had completed calculations for the voyage to the inner planets, and been in regular contact with the Cocytus and Acheron. Skywarp said he appreciated that the last rotation had been difficult, that he truly did appreciate those who had worked extra shifts, and that he was counting on all of them to do their duty for the duration of this shift.

Skywarp then continued, going over the duties of each station during the maneuver, from assigning drones to secure cargo, to controlling burn on individual thrusters.

“You sure you want me to handle this?” Barricade asked. When they left New Kaon, Starscream himself had piloted the Lycoris. The portion of the journey by transwarp star drive had depended greatly on a command from Thundercracker or another in the chain of command, with Skywarp and Starscream helping Overcast in engineering as needed.

“Barricade, did you not previously perform just these types of duties for Megatron?” Skywarp asked; rhetorically, Barricade suspected. He sounded a bit like Thundercracker with his leading questions. “I am not singling you out for any special duty you have not handled adequately before.”

“Yes, Sir.” Barricade said automatically. He felt relieved. If Skywarp really treated him as an average Decepticon while on duty, and did not single him out with any special notice, then Barricade was certain he also could remain professional.

The maneuver went quite smoothly. Acid Storm was able to come collect Drench before the pivotal time in their shift. Skywarp did a good job of coordinating, though his Starscream-like manner in the command chair sometimes came across as unconsciously domineering and flirtatious (not as funny now Barricade was consciously trying to hide attraction to a member of his chain of command). Sunstorm kept them apprised of communications from the fleet and decks of the Lycoris. Thunderblast read off headings already calculated by Thrust and Skywarp. Vortex assigned drones to tasks necessary for preparing the ship for the acceleration required for sub-light travel. Overcast kept them apprised of status of sub-light engines. Barricade was responsible for firing the engines and controlling the duration of burn.

Even with dampening technology, everyone on the ship felt the force of acceleration. It was not like the wizardry of transwarp in which the ship somehow transcended ordinary space-time. They fired engines to specific thrust in order to reach speeds lesser than the perceived speed of light, but fast enough to slow perceived passage of time relative to their departure or destination points.

Once the initial burn was made, the ship no longer accelerated, its mass was traveling at a constant speed. Still, there was a remnant sense of inertia, beyond what could be compensated for by their current dampening or shielding technologies. Not all Cybertronians were comfortable with this mode of travel. Barricade tolerated the sensation of motion. Vortex complained, but seemed no less capable of his duties; he said it just did not feel the same as flying oneself. Thunderblast seemed quite tolerant as well. The Seekers seemed especially well adapted.

It did not matter to the Seekers if they flew themselves, left space-time, were in an accelerating starship slingshoting around a star, or were within a vessel in constant motion. By evolution or design they suffered no disorientation.

They had not quite reached the inner planets when the shift ended. The next set of maneuvers would be for first shift to handle. Thundercracker came from the office adjacent to the command deck, shortly before the shift ended. That meant, Barricade realized, he had been in there the entire shift.

Thundercracker and Skywarp spoke about the planned maneuvers for a while.

Swindle, Thrust, Ramjet and Acid Storm reported for duty. Except for Swindle, who was to take weapons, they were all Seekers and cleared to pilot the Lycoris.

Barricade turned his station over to Ramjet and stood. He faltered trying to walk. He really did not need more embarrassment, but he was not yet accustomed to the sense of motion. Barricade hoped it would go unnoticed, but Thundercracker spoke. “Perhaps you should drive back to your quarters, Barricade,” he suggested, “You might feel more sure of yourself on four tires than two feet. I hear that sometimes grounders just need to drive. Why not take a few laps before recharging?”

“Thank you, Sir,” Barricade grumbled. He walked, carefully, out from the command deck to the nearest turbolift.

Though it did annoy him that it was Thundercracker's idea (he was not accustomed to complying well with orders) Barricade felt like a drive would be good for him. He needed to transform and test the road worthiness of the repairs to his right arm. His particular transformation scheme put his arm-panels along the sides of his vehicle mode; a slight alteration to the angle of support struts in his arms, or his wheel alignment would affect his ability to drive. He needed to be able to drive.

Barricade transformed, throwing himself down arms first and landing on the rubber edges of his wrists as he quickly shifted his parts into alt-mode. His weight settled, bouncing on rear suspension that had so recently been shoulder extensions and lower legs. It felt good. He accelerated hard and peeled out, leaving tire marks on the deck plating.

Barricade did several laps around deck 3. He fishtailed slightly about some of the curves in the passage, where the plating was well worn and polished, but wiggled his drive wheels to stabilize. He felt good, strong again. Barricade pulled a 180 in front of the cabins at the rear port side of deck 3; near Warp's quarters. He idled.

Barricade tried their usual comm scheme. 'Warp'

Amused tone: 'Door is unlocked.'

No one in the corridor. Barricade transformed back to root mode. He keyed the door control and entered. He found Skywarp reclining on his berth and playing something on a holomatter game board with his puppet.

“Thundercracker did say I should feel welcome to visit any time.” Not that this was why he was here, but Barricade did not want to seem too desperate.

“He mentioned that,” Skywarp said. He moved a marker on the game board, “to use our wash facilities. Please feel free. I promise not to exploit your need for proper maintenance in order to entice you or take advantage of momentary vulnerability.” Totally calling his bluff.

“Right.” Skywarp had called his bluff, so, he couldn't very well argue the fact without admitting a blatant double standard in which said enticement and exploitation was fine so long as he was the one in control.

“You do smell a little.”

The so-called doll said something in its alien language.

“I can multi-task,” Skywarp warbled in response. His optics tracked back to Barricade, “You do not think Cade had some ulterior motive in coming to our quarters all post-drive high and smelling of like smoky, road-warmed rubber and oil?”

The doll spoke again. Whatever it actually said, Barricade was certain Skywarp's responses were for his benefit.

“Ulterior motives? Cade? Perish the thought.”

“Actually,” Barricade said, walking toward the berth. “I really just missed the physics discussion.”

The holomatter doll and game board disappeared. “Really?” Really he wanted an excuse to get into Skywarp's berth with him.

Barricade sat himself on the berth, approximately where the holomatter had been projected. Skywarp remained reclining, wings in the air, watching him with interest. “I would like to hear that part about the mathematical construct with the one-dimensional strings and loops. I have been trying to understand that stage in theory. That is, if you can tolerate the scent of excited grounder.”

“I hear some actually find the aroma attractive.”

“I hear the same about your volatile reek.”

Skywarp pulled a length of red wire from his subspace storage. “I think I can manage to keep my claws off you long enough to explain the basic theory.” Claws, sure. What about all his other parts?

“Want to place a wager on that?” Barricade asked. Oh, please do! 

“You think you have something in which I would be interested enough to take the risk?”

“I might be willing to wager myself.”

“You mean you have been clever enough to get all my hints of interest, Cade?”

“Pinning a mech up against a wall for a kiss: not a subtle hint.”

Skywarp smiled. “There are quite a few games I would like to play with you,” he said. He made games sound frightening. “And what shall I wager?”

“Truth,” Barricade suggested.

“So, if I give in to your enticing aroma and touch you, then you get to ask some question I must answer truthfully. Yet, if I am able to entice you to touch me, first, then I get to play another game with you?”

“Yes. Deal?”

“We have a wager,” Skywarp agreed. He pushed himself up and sat on the berth a short distance from Barricade. “Starting from now.”

Barricade folded his arms across his chest and leaned his left side against the wall, determined to put in a good show of caring that he won. Really, he figured, either way he would get something worthwhile.

Skywarp spent the next cycle, using his length of red wire as a prop, lecturing Barricade on the progress that was made in developing current theories in Cybertronian physics and how theories including certain number of dimensions and such mathematical constructs as one dimensional points, strings and membranes contributed to the current understanding.

Barricade was in earnest in wanting to hear about this theory, since the recharge images he had experienced had stayed with his processor after coming back online. But, he had vastly underestimated Skywarp's ability to make the topic of physics enticing or arousing.

Previously they had discussed physics aloud, while coming about more personal matters, so the science discussion had been intentionally dry and professional. Skywarp's current choice of words was highly suspect. He pronounced terms like spin, charge, mass and flavor so suggestively Barricade had difficulty retrieving the actual scientific sense of each term from his memory.

Yeah, I've got your [insert scientific term] right here, Barricade kept thinking.

And the prop should have been cheating, except Barricade had neglected to state such a rule before agreeing to the wager. The length of wire not only kept Skywarp's hands occupied, but it visually drew attention. Barricade had a sense that Skywarp was actually testing his visual perception. He would try to focus one or two of his optic lenses elsewhere, while listening to Warp and pretending to look at him, and then Skywarp would make a wide, quick gesture that forced Barricade's optics to auto-track for potential threats, and draw attention back to his hands.

He joined the ends of the wire to make a loop and began weaving the wire about his claws in complex patterns.

Skywarp explained how these theoretical vibrating strings might be like lines, with two open ends, or closed looks with attached ends. Distracting as the delivery was, Barricade found himself grasping the actual theory much better. He suspected, the more he understood, that the lecture contained a hinted subtext in which the nature of these theoretically existing and sometimes attached strings was in parallel to his own behavior in some way.

Barricade was very tempted to throw the bet and just touch Warp. But he clung to his pride, thinking that maybe if he shrugged or flexed his arms, just slightly, he could fake-out Skywarp and invite his touch at the same time. Skywarp looked, but just kept shifting and weaving the loop of wire. Touch me, Barricade wished silently, as if he might will it to happen. Just touch me already. A cycle had passed!

“And if you look quite closely,” Skywarp said, exposing an end of the wire held low between them, “you can see that things are not always as they seem.” Barricade leaned forward slightly to look, relaxing his arms. He saw that the 'string' Skywarp had been gesturing with was partly red casing and partly a metal core. If the casing was slit open, then it was more a plane than a line.

“What first looked like a string with unattached ends was more like a brane looped in on itself,” Barricade observed. “And in that case, how do we explain the wire?”

“Excellent question, Cade. Now look closely....” Skywarp quickly manipulated the red-coated wire and looped it about Barricade's left hand, just below his blade wheel, without touching him.

Barricade knew he had been played. Skywarp spun the opposite end of the red wire about his own gauntlet with a flourish of his hand, then pulled on his end of the wire, forcing Barricade's hand to move toward him. Barricade's claws made contact with the vent on the right side of Skywarp's chest.

“And look what the red string of destiny has fated to happen,” Skywarp said, all smug amusement, “You touched me first.”

“You cheated.” But, he left his claws on Warp's chest, all the same.

“And, what part of the Decepticon code of honor says cheating is wrong?”

“There is no Decepticon code of honor. Such a code would negate the absolute freedom we pretend to have.”

“I'll make another deal with you,” Warp suggested, “How about I tell you the truth, and then we get to play.”

“Tell me about Thundercracker,” Barricade said seriously.

“He's our leader.”

Barricade wriggled claw-tips into Skywarp's vent. “Don't play stupid, Warp, you know the truth I need to hear.”

“That area is just the tiniest bit sensitive,” Skywarp hissed.

“You want me to stop? I want to hear the truth.” Barricade said sweetly.

Skywarp leaned into his touch. “I did not actually say I wanted you to stop touching me there.” He took up slack on the wire to keep Barricade's left hand in place, then reached with his left for the cables along the inside of Barricade's right thigh. Nothing sensitive there, just major feeds that allowed his legs to function! He reached for Warp's left hip with his free hand and squeezed, just hard enough to dimple the thin plating.

“You want to play? I would love to play. Tell me the truth first.”

Skywarp laughed. “I was going to tell you anyway.” So playful!

“Sure you were. So tell.”

“As sure as there is a string connecting us right now, I believe Thundercracker and I are attached, fated to be together, forever, but we are not bonded, yet, though I am his consort.”

Oh. “And he knows, about us?”

“Currently has his own reasons to approve.”

“Which are?”

“His reasons, and therefore not my truth to tell.” Point to Skywarp.

“What game do you want to play?” Barricade acquiesced.

Skywarp reached into his storage with his left hand and retrieved a pair of stasis cuffs, which he then skillfully spun about on the tip of a claw. “Well,” he said, “since you were so good about not touching during our wager, I propose a game in which you get to enjoy as much control as you want, but must surrender your ability to touch me unassisted.”

“And how does that work?”

“You get to wear stasis cuffs.” Skywarp smirked as he looked at Barricade, “And I am bound by the rules of this game to accept all your verbal commands, and only act according to your commands, for the duration of the game. I will, of course, set the cuffs to give you free use of your...mouth.”

Barricade, thought about this, analyzing the rules of this game, wondering if it was in some way a trap or gave Skywarp unfair advantage.

“You need to say you want to play. The trust between us is etched in my very frame, but as neither of us have formally surrendered to the other, or made vows of undying allegiance, I must insist you give consent to begin.”

“Didn't ask for consent to pin me to a wall.”

“Yes, but I specifically asked whether you intended to defend yourself, that would include defense against any unwanted advances from me.”

“So this game?” Barricade asked, “It gives you a chance to feel...not so frightened?”

Skywarp gave a nod. “I do trust that if you were to cause me harm, it would not be physical or...well you did really enter my quarters all road-warmed, looking for some fun, in the intimate and physical sense.”

“Not entirely,” Barricade protested. But, it really was the main reason.

“It would be all right if you did,” Skywarp said, as he unwound the red wire linking their arms. “I was hoping to see you, too. Still, first times are scary.”

Barricade offered his hands by way of consent. He watched Skywarp place the two halves of the pair of stasis cuffs about his forearms, felt his systems going into standby. Skywarp tapped at the cuffs. Barricade felt a tingle about his neck and shoulders. He spoke then, “So what's this game really about? Seeing how many of your parts are sensitive to licking?”

“That could be nice,” Warp said softly, “but I suggest you think outside the construct a bit and consider your options before giving me commands.”

Barricade huffed a ventilation. “To start, could you prop me up, against the wall. I'm a little slumped being immobilized like this.”

Skywarp immediately complied, claws tentative in finding purchase to lift Barricade's shell. He was immobilized for certain, but all his tactile sensors functioned normally. So, maybe the game was not so much about what he could do to Skywarp' or commanding Warp to present more parts to his mouth. He could command Skywarp to touch him, if he chose.

“So, what did you say were the rules specifically? You follow my commands and only my commands for the duration of the game?”

“As far as movement, yes. I can speak to you without command.”

“And what's the duration?”

Smirk. “Unless you intend to report for second shift in stasis cuffs and without having recharged, I suggest you decide to announce an end to our game at such a time that will allow us both to get required rest before our next shift.”

“Yeah, but a shift is a decacycle. Sixteen cycles, and it's only just about two cycles into first shift now.”

“I concur with your calculation. Even if you spend half a shift in recharge, that does leave us six more cycles for play.”

“I so completely love you,” Barricade sighed. What? He hoped Skywarp did not take that seriously.

Skywarp giggled. “I am sure you say that every time a mech promises a bit of deviant play, Cade. Give me a command already.” No, Barricade thought to himself, he didn't say things like that. Dangerous, like giving a rim-job to a fusion cannon. Likely to end up burned.

“Let's start with you bringing that vent there a little closer.” Skywarp complied, again, kneeling with knee joints placed on the berth, either side of Barricade's legs. Barricade could feel claws on his left upper tire. He gave the vent a tentative lick. Warp hissed and sighed. His claws dug at the tire treads, gently. It was nice, that touch, though it seemed like cheating, such as Barricade understood the rules. “It's sensitive, these vents? Doesn't it hurt to fly? Air or debris entering?”

“Not in the sense of fragile or delicate. Sensitive in increments of sensory input: olfaction, taste, touch. Need to know what kind of atmosphere is flowing to the jets.”

Barricade understood. “Move those claws from my tire to the vent.” Again, Skywarp complied immediately. His optics dimmed and brightened, often a sign of powerful emotional reaction. Was it disgust? Lust? “Warp, you ever play with grounders before?”

He shook his head. His optics tracked to Barricade's face. “You use the plural, as if I took on several at a time.”

He wished! No, he told himself. It wasn't really that he wanted to see Skywarp with multiple grounder partners (especially other than himself). It was more that his first impulse was that when it came to having pleasure or deviancy more was just better. “Take it as a compliment,” Barricade whispered. Warp was gazing at him. So intense. “You're a fine piece of machinery.”

“Flirting mercilessly with you since arrived in New Kaon.” The ventilations were rapid, claw-tips still touching his own vent. Skywarp licked his own lip plates.

“Your first? I'm your first?”

“First grounder. Please, Cade....”

“I figured TC was your lover.”

A slight nod.

“Why 'please'?”

“Need a command. Said you wanted to play. Please, Cade. I-I like talking with you, but...I don't like this part. Play fair.”

“Decepticon honor code does not exist, remember.”

“Thought you liked control. You-you d-don't like my game?” Stammering again, not like the hilarious, coy, manipulative Warp at all.

Think outside the construct. Skywarp wanted to play this game, with him. “I want you, it's just I pictured things differently when I imagined getting a chance to be so close.” He had always pictured what he could do to Warp. Always being active and proving that he could make Skywarp feel good. Making Warp react. That was control. And this was control...a different control. He could decide, direct action, but take no physical action himself. And neither could Warp, unless he gave a command. “How specific do you need commands?”

Skywarp smiled. Good sign. “For you to decide. I will take action as you command. Tell me what I can do.”

It came to him. First times were scary. A controlled environment was less scary to Warp than one uncontrolled. Didn't really matter who held control or how tight it was. He just needed to be aware a control system was in place.

“Touch me,” Barricade commanded. It was so the right choice! Skywarp fell against him, legs sliding against Barricade's, torsos touching, claws and mouth probing. Not what Barricade had imagined, but it did feel good. “That's it, Warp. Good. Just keep touching me. Everywhere you can reach.” It felt very good.

“More!”

“Just touch me.” Let Skywarp think Barricade was in control. Challenge him, but set a reasonable goal. “Show me how unfamiliar you are with a grounder frame. Let me see you examine every part. If you find a part you have not touched before, start with a light touch, then harder. I will be here, command you if a particular touch is not pleasing.”

“Yes! Even under armor?” Tough call.

“Outside first,” Barricade said firmly, “if we have time, and you have shown me you know how to touch me the right way, then I will consider ordering you to remove armor.” Barricade had a thought. “Maybe yours first.”

“I so completely love you, too!”


	7. Chapter 7

Skywarp was scared. Barricade was unresponsive. No more than a millicycle ago he had been screaming, in a really good way, and then suddenly his expression had gone vacant, his optics had flickered. Skywarp had seen Barricade collapse limply against the berth; his optics unfocused. The fear dispersed all desire in Skywarp. “Cade?” Skywarp pleaded. There was no response. Skywarp coded the release on the stasis cuffs Barricade had been wearing. No obvious movement. Skywarp cried out, “Cade!” What had he done? “CADE!”

“Warp. Right here,” Barricade said quietly.

“Cade!” He was all right! Skywarp threw himself down atop Barricade and held him in his arms.

“Heavy, Warp. Bigger than me.”

Skywarp rose quickly, hands and knees placed either side of Barricade's smaller frame. “I am so glad you are all right. I was scared!”

Barricade's optics lenses all focused on Skywarp's face. “What ya talkin' about?”

“You-you went out...you were gone, maybe a few millicycles.”

Barricade laughed. 

“It's not funny! I thought I hurt you!”

He kept laughing. “Yeah, hurt so good I went into sensory overload.”

“Overload?” Skywarp was beginning to understand. So, he hadn't hurt Barricade really, or endangered his spark; he'd just made him feel so much that his processor seized with pleasure. He had appeared unresponsive because his CPU was undergoing soft reboot.

“You are so gorgeously inexperienced,” Barricade whispered. He lifted claws to stroke Skywarp's faceplate. Barricade felt: satisfied.

Skywarp smiled coyly, a cute not-quite-smirk. So, his inexperience was an asset. “This is the 'pleasures of the shell' everyone is warned against?”

More laughter.

“I can make you feel so good, your CPU can't handle the sensory input?”

“Exactly,” Barricade said, “You have some skills, Warp.”

“Flattery is good. I like flattery.” Skywarp's fear was in turn dispersed by swelling pride. He was a very attractive Decepticon. He had sparked Thundercracker into dumbstruck silence and overloaded Barricade with an obvious natural talent for tactile stimulation. It was good to feel powerful, and not frightened.

Maybe – it might mean he was less special – Starscream and all his clones had such natural talent. That might mean Thundercracker had some skills of his own Skywarp had not yet had the pleasure of experiencing. It would be so excellent, if he could manage to get Thundercracker and Barricade to be with him at the same time.

“What are you – you smell so good right now!” The grounder liked his volatile reek now? Well, fair enough. The burnt rubber was still 'coming on a little strong' to Skywarp, but he was really warming to Barricade's particular engine oil scent.

Skywarp bowed his head and licked at the sharp embellishments adorning Barricade's chin. Maybe he just liked mechs with facial ornamentation. Thundercracker's chin stripe was hot. And tattoos, too. Skywarp sighed. Maybe he liked mechs with a particular taste in aesthetic mods.

“Warp, listen,” Barricade said in his overly friendly tone. “Maybe it's time to cool things down. Get some recharge.” Skywarp lifted his head and looked down at Barricade. He was, annoyingly, doing that thing he did when he was trying not to see how attractive Skywarp looked at the moment. He clearly had most of his optic lenses focused on the walls.

“You can recharge here.”

“Let me up?” Barricade asked sweetly.

Skywarp pushed himself toward the wall and sat, allowing Barricade an avenue of retreat. He fully recognized Barricade's sweet, manipulative tone and avoidance of the suggestion to stay for some recharge. Skywarp knew he was inexperienced in some areas; but not stupid. He figured it would not help to press Barricade at this point. At least, not without some careful consideration and finesse.

He watched Barricade slip from the edge of the berth and then test his ability to stand. “You are probably right,” Skywarp said, just as sweetly, “we could both use some recharge after that. Why don't you make use of the wash facilities, first? Or, would you rather use the communal facilities? I could go with you.”

“No need for that,” Barricade said quickly. Skywarp saw him head for the wash area, and smirked. Barricade could be a coward in some ways – emotionally – but he was certainly not afraid of using a public wash facility. Though he had not experienced it himself, Skywarp was starting to understand that many Decepticons of an age with Barricade had lived a strictly institutionalized life, with time in faction-sponsored education centers, training facilities, military units and sometimes prisons. Barricade was a survivor, smart, not too crazy; so, he must know how to handle himself. If he was afraid of anything, it was not so much being accosted while he was washing, as allowing his baser drives to steer him into doing something foolish again.

Even one as inexperienced as Skywarp could see how it was embarrassing for a serious veteran to be seen chasing after the brooding, young vampire of the crew.

Skywarp had some mixed feelings about this. He was not as introspective as Sunstorm, but he was not as blinded by arrogance as Thundercracker, either. He could see that to some optics he must look just as silly as Dead End. He was younger than the mechs who could say they were veterans of the Great War. He was darkly colored and sometimes said creepy things when he was speaking about his fears. His struggles with cowardice often made him shy; he could just as easily play the attractive wallflower, in the shadowy corner of the oil house, as Dead End. He had even sucked energon from another mech's lines before – he shivered at the memory.

The main difference was that Skywarp was highly ranked. So, really, this made him much more like Starscream in his youth, than like Dead End at all. Thinking about it gave Skywarp new context for those earlier memories of Starscream's he had accessed. Many Decepticons had been upset or jealous that Starscream climbed ranks so quickly. They had not all believed it could be based on skill.

Starscream had flaws, but Skywarp knew he did not lack in intelligence, or skill. He was now, in much the same position. It was obvious some thought Skywarp had been promoted because he was close with Thundercracker, or even just for being one of Starscream's clones. Just as some had assumed Starscream must have been doing something special and extracurricular for Megatron, it was assumed Skywarp had paid for his rank in so many intimate favors.

Skywarp really appreciated, right now, how difficult it had been for Starscream. Even if he had very much wanted to be with someone, it could have ruined his reputation to give any further credit or evidence to the allegations. Skywarp's spark ached to know how lonely Starscream had been. And even if Starscream had dared make a move to share himself with someone, there would have still been the sparkache associated with the failing protoforms he had been charged with maintaining. Not an environment most conducive to anything like breeding activity.

It made Skywarp feel very happy when he thought about Starscream and Slipstream. Sure their love ran hot and cold, and they bickered loudly sometimes, and tried to deny their affection, but they were happy like that. They were not alone.

This mission was very important! It was a cause that could drive Skywarp to face many fears. They needed to increase their numbers, to save their faction, and could not rely on Imperial methods that had been proven to result in loss of individual spark and intelligence that was integral to the Decepticon cause. Drones had their purposes, but what freedoms would they really have if everyone were hive-minded drones? They needed to increase their numbers, both shell and spark, the old fashioned way.

Even if Barricade himself did not fully believe in the cause, and thought tradition and responsibility outweighed real freedoms within the faction, Skywarp did believe Decepticons had freedom, and was fully willing to fight to defend it. It was because they truly believed in freedom that they would employ no regimented military breeding program.

It was Skywarp's mission to get Barricade to breed with him, but mission parameters dictated he had to gain Barricade's willing compliance. Barricade was intelligent, and also jaded, skeptical and distrustful. Deception was not going to win Barricade's full compliance. The only path Skywarp saw was truly winning Barricade's affection. To win the affection of one so guarded, Skywarp had to express genuine trust and affection of his own.

It would not have worked with just anyone. Even a robot could not truly love on command. Skywarp had named Barricade as his target, only after scouting enough to confirm there was real intellectual stimulation and physical attraction.

It could still go all wrong. Barricade could find a reason to say no.

“I would not really go to the wash room with you,” Skywarp said, casually he hoped. “I know you want to keep all this on the down low.”

“Appreciate it,” Barricade said as he shut off the nozzle he had been using. “I'm not ashamed...”

“Why would you be?” Skywarp asked rhetorically, “I am beautiful, intelligent, powerful, and possessed of a dark sense of humor.”

“Yeah,” Barricade said softly, as he dried himself with an absorbent cloth. “Not to mention playful and manipulative.”

“It's just that I am in your chain of command. Believe me, I know how that is.”

“I bet you do.”

Skywarp steered the conversation away from direct references to Thundercracker. It was enough Barricade already knew Skywarp and he remained lovers. “I understand that it would be awkward if anyone saw you leaving here just before your next duty shift. I trust you were alone when you arrived.”

“Checked the corridor,” Barricade confirmed. Skywarp had thought as much.

“And, even given what trust we have earned in forming this mutually beneficial arrangement, it may be straining that trust to expect either of us to be comfortable allowing another mech so close when we recharge.”

“Yeah?” Barricade was looking at him curiously, with just one of his optic lenses on the door. It made Skywarp wonder if he had some tell, or made a sign to indicate he was being too manipulative. He imagined the quip would be 'yeah, you activated your vocalizer'.

“Being alone is scarier than being taken advantage of in sleep-mode.”

“Skywarp,” Barricade said coolly, “you have clearly never been taken advantage of while in recharge.”

“Have you?” Skywarp said, smirking. It was obviously deflecting the question back on Barricade, but sometimes Barricade seemed to think it cute when he was so overtly argumentative or manipulative.

“How do you know I didn't do it to someone else?”

“Maybe you did,” Skywarp said carelessly as he could, “but the point is that I trust that you would not do it to me,” or, rather that whatever advantage was taken had implied consent by this point in their peculiar relationship, “and I would not want to take any more advantage of you than I already have, considering that some mechs in your place might assume my rank implied I was not to be refused.”

“You I don't worry about, Warp.” Yes, he worried about Thundercracker now; and that had been entirely unplanned.

“So, I ask you, hypothetically, if you could avoid notice from others and being seen coming and going from my quarters, could you trust me enough to recharge together?”

“I don't-”

“I realize it is not your responsibility. I mean, you did not draw up the new duty schedule that gave me no shared off-shifts with my previous berth-mate.”

“But one of you did,” Barricade said firmly. He stood from the bench in the wash area and walked toward Skywarp. “Whichever of you did it, also, suspiciously, gave me every off-shift with you.”

“We are not the only two with first shift off, Cade. For all I know you could be off playing bondage games with Vortex.”

“I'd be mad to play bondage games with Vortex! And you know very well who I am playing games with!”

“Yes,” Skywarp sighed rather dramatically, “that would be me.” He made a flourish of his claws toward his person.

“Being with you is good,” Barricade admitted, “but recharge is just recharge. I don't feel the need to share my berth.”

Yes, yes, Skywarp thought, make certain it is clearly communicated that recharge is nothing special. Certainly not an indication of any seriousness or commitment to share a berth. Certainly not anything anyone here secretly would want. “Do you often experience bad memory loops or disturbing random images while in recharge?”

Barricade kept his cool. He stepped in and spoke at Skywarp's audio receptor, “Is it very scary when you online alone, the disturbing random sensory data fresh in memory?”

“Yes.” Skywarp admitted it fully. Sometimes, with Barricade, it just did not pay-off to try to beat him at his own game. It was better at these times, to give a little and confess; then at least it would be more frustrating the next time when he did not cave so easily. “It's very scary. Even if it means I appear weak for it, a moment of weakness in the presence of someone I trust is preferable than being alone and disoriented in the dark, uncertain of reality.”

“For you,” Barricade said quietly, “being weak usually means convincing a strong protector to give you a little extra attention, which you enjoy. Is that not so, Skywarp?” So clever and so cruel doing a bit of Thundercracker impersonation.

“You are assuming that you mean so little to me that you are merely a substitute 'strong protector', Cade.”

“Oh, no. I understand completely. 'Protection racket' is exactly what I feared this was.”

Skywarp giggled playfully and stroked Barricade's helm with his claws. “I'm not looking to rough-up Dirge for you, or put on an exhibition in the wash room until Dead End understands you are mine,” he said sweetly, “I just want to be close, so I can tell you we don't hold random recharge images against any mech, and sooth you back into sleep-mode.”

Barricade was weakening. He was guarded and suspicious, and highly manipulative, but he was genuinely attracted to Skywarp, and Skywarp knew it. “I don't – no – you can comm me, if things get bad, and I'll come back over.”

“Can you just try? For me? Please?” Skywarp pleaded. He was not above begging. “Just this shift, and if you really do not like it, then I will not ask again.” Skywarp checked Barricade's expression to gauge his willingness and then dropped his gaze, “I want to recharge, with you. I trust you, Cade. I feel safe beside you.” This might be too much, Skywarp supposed, digging at Barricade's need to be the bad guy who only pretended to be the good guy; less guilt that way. “Try for me.”

“You're so coy!” Barricade complained, as if this were a bad thing.

“You like me coy.”

“Just this once,” Barricade said firmly, “and we recharge in my berth.” Even better, Skywarp thought. “No one sees you coming or going.”

“No problem!”

“Check the corridor for me?”

Skywarp got up, slipping past Barricade and his lingering claw-tips, to go to the door. He keyed it open and looked out into the corridor. He saw Sunstorm and Ramjet nearby, standing outside the door to Sunstorm's quarters. Skywarp was pretty certain Ramjet was supposed to be on duty. He glared at the two, “You are supposed to be on duty, Ramjet.”

Ramjet snickered and then shuttered one optic in a wink. “Of course, Thundercracker has no idea I am off duty.” Then, he commed on the scheme they used among the clones, 'Why do you care? Physics discussion?'

Sunstorm sniffed. 'I complement you both on your fine taste in burnt rubber,' he commed. He shuffled his feet. Skywarp looked down and noticed the dark tire marks on the plating, below Sunstorm's clean, white feet. How, he wondered, could Barricade be so careful and so clueless at the same time?

'Flying means nothing to me,' Ramjet snarked. They knew this as a lie, because Ramjet had waited to witness Red Alert's inherited – somewhat limited – flight ability before officially proposing a bond.

'At least I am not with an Autobot!' Skywarp quipped.

'That makes you as highly selective a connoisseur of grounder mechs as our dear brother Dirge.' Sunstorm and Ramjet pounded each other's fists and then went into some sort of secret handshake, which Skywarp suspected they were making up as they went, just to annoy him further. 'Better flying Autobots....' Sunstorm said.

'There's no such thing as a flying Autobot,' Ramjet replied. Of course there were numerous flying Autobots: one with a starship alt-mode, ones with jet packs, ones with flying beast alt-modes, a couple of red-faceplated sports-models with winglets and rockets, that wingless blue kid with the crush on Sunstorm, and his brother. 

“Well, just stop making so much noise in the corridor, some of us need to recharge,” Skywarp said aloud, so Barricade could hear.

“It's very cowardly to take the initiative to check on mysterious noises!” Ramjet said.

“I will check with Thundercracker to see if he really gave you permission to be off duty, Ramjet,” Skywarp said, then commed, 'There is nothing going on. Can you just take this inside your quarters?' 

“And here I was going to complement you on your astounding progress in overcoming cowardice, but I see it is more your unfaltering faith in our most egotistical commander that gives you liberty to question our activity.” Skywarp did not fully understand why Sunstorm was so often biting and cruel in his 'complements' to him, yet consistently showered Ramjet with adoration. The only thing Sunstorm had over Skywarp was that he was fractions of a cycle older that Skywarp and Thundercracker, having been brought online by Starscream just after Ramjet.

Was that it? Seriously? That, or Sunstorm actually thought it disgraceful Skywarp was allegedly cheating on Thundercracker. No, Sunstorm was not that loyal to Thundercracker, and most of his talk of sin was a front. Actually Skywarp was not too certain about Sunstorm. Whatever the reason, he really did treat Skywarp with more cruelty than he did others. 

“How marvelously insightful of you to perceive that I adore Thundercracker. He's so strong and commanding and protective. Almost like I imagine a creator should be, if I did not actually have a creator who so carelessly used me like a disposable weapon. We have been through so much together, and he's always watched out for me. Is there a term for that? For someone with a bond of kinship, someone older, like an 'uncle' or....”

“Come on, Sunstorm,” Ramjet said, “You can recharge in my quarters. Red is on shift this rotation. Let's let Warp play with his dolls.” Truth. Probably the part about dolls, too, as far as Ramjet was concerned.

Skywarp saw his brothers leave. He closed the door and leaned the forepart of his helm against the interior surface. Teasing Sunstorm had not really made him feel better about anything.

“You don't always get along? All you clones?” Barricade asked.

“Don't want to talk about it,” Skywarp said. Ramjet alone could be contrary and mischievous, but not cruel. And Dirge could get very possessive and greedy, but not really mean. It was really just Sunstorm he did not get along with.

“So, Sunstorm really adores his brother?”

“It's not physical. Not with them.” That was him and Thundercracker. Skywarp had no right to mock Sunstorm. If Thundercracker knew, he would have been disappointed; said Skywarp was dishonorable. Though, Barricade said there was no Decepticon honor.

“It's not like we're some kind of squishies with familial ties and taboos about interbreeding with those who have the same parasitic microorganisms. If the codes are compatible, you can breed, and if not, probably doesn't work anyway.”

“Really don't want to talk about it,” Skywarp said pitifully. Couldn't breed with Thundercracker. He wanted to be able to. Needed Barricade. Liked Barricade. Afraid it was too soon to ask for what he wanted...needed. Afraid to lose his chance.

Silence. Barricade was smart, and he was experienced with puzzling together sparse leads to get at the truth. He probably knew more than Skywarp had wanted him to know, now. Skywarp had never really intended to deceive Barricade fully, but he had hoped to have some control over the timing and context in which truth was revealed.

Barricade ducked under Skywarp's left wing and stood between his cockpit canopy and the door. Skywarp felt Barricade's claws on his midsection. Their fields mingled with the proximity. Skywarp was never 100% certain what his own field communicated, but he supposed it was cold and fearful now. Barricade felt surprisingly warm. Skywarp couldn't really describe the spark language between them, but it did feel like something positive on Barricade's end.

“If I liked hanging around gloomy mechs, I wouldn't have been so embarrassed about that whole Dead End mess.”

“You trying to say you actually like hanging around me, Cade?”

“You're supposed to be smart, Warp. Thought you knew.”

“It's different when you outright admit it.”

“Yeah, ya know what would be really different? Carving it on your frame. So, how about you warp us over to my quarters and we just get some recharge.”

Skywarp complied. He put his arms loosely about Barricade, to ensure that he would be within the warp bubble he generated. A jump from one part of the ship to another did not take a lot of effort to calculate, because the math allowed for some shortcuts, if he considered their movement relative to the ship. Jumping to and from locations in space-time with walls and obstacles was a little scary, but Skywarp had physically been to Barricade's quarters before, so the spacial data was quite concrete.

They warped, and then stood together in Barricade's quarters, with Skywarp similarly facing the door.

“A little scary, but a slaggin' useful skill!”

“It's supposed to be my ultimate cowardly move, but unfortunately superiors usually view it as the ultimate infiltration ability.”

Barricade laughed. “You mean how these marks on my arm-panels distinguish me for job opportunities in security, enforcement, or going undercover as a mech in security or enforcement?”

“I always knew we had some things in common.” Skywarp sat down on Barricade's berth. He scooted toward the wall and sat there, wings to the wall and legs drawn up before him. “Let's just recharge.”

Barricade shrugged. Usually, Skywarp knew, that would be enough to catch his interest, because he rather liked Cade's arms; he liked the way the transformation scheme was engineered, that his arms bore all four of his wheels, and the collection of tattoos. Now, he did not really feel excited or interested.

Barricade did not join him on the berth, either, but stood looking at him with all four lenses in his dual optics.

After a klik, Barricade spoke, “How many of them know?”

“Know what?”

“How many of the other clones know you are with me?”

“They just know about the physics discussions,” Skywarp said flatly, “Except Thundercracker, but you already knew that.”

“They suspect?”

Skywarp figured he might as well answer honestly. Whatever Barricade was trying to get at, if he did suspect the truth, lying would not help at this point. “Ramjet suspects 'talk about physics' is a cover, and that you seem like a Decepticon who would find me a convenient ally, but I did not say anything to outright confirm his suspicion.”

“But Sunstorm might also suspect, if he and Ramjet talk?”

“There is that,” Skywarp admitted.

Barricade was quiet again. Skywarp imagined he was plotting how he might later use this information against them all. “What's Sunstorm's angle?”

“Haven't figured that out.”

“Would they know that Thundercracker knows?”

“I do not even know what you mean.”

Barricade still stood there, studying Skywarp. It made him nervous. Barricade had to be plotting something. “Do they think they know you are cheating, and that they have something on you, or would they know that Thundercracker has his own reasons to allow you to be with me, and perceive some significance to that knowledge?”

“I cannot tell you what someone else knows, Cade.” Skywarp looked purposefully away, much as Barricade did when he was trying not to see how cute he was.

Barricade shrugged again; Skywarp saw it in the periphery of his vision. “Let's just get some recharge, like you said.” His tone was so bright and happy it was downright menacing. The light dimmed, probably with a wireless command. Barricade climbed onto his berth, sat down beside Skywarp and draped his right arm possessively across Skywarp's cockpit.

This just did not feel right. Barricade was being to quiet and too nice. It made Skywarp suspicious. The suspicion gave him anxiety.

Skywarp tried to recharge, but his processor could not go into sleep-mode. He was hung-up on figuring out what Barricade was plotting. Did he know everything? Why was he being nice?

This hugging did not seem a very Barricade thing to do. He probably set his motion detectors before recharge and would quickly wake and restrain Skywarp if he tried to get away.

Should he try to get away?

Barricade shifted slightly.

“D-don't hurt me!” Skywarp shrieked.

Barricade's dual optics glowed fiercely at him. “I thought you said being taken advantage of while in recharge was better than being alone.”

“I-I I didn't say that, exactly. And! I wasn't in recharge.”

“Why not?” Barricade asked, too sweetly, “Aren't you comfortable? Don't you trust me?”

“I-I know what this is!”

Barricade lifted his claws to Skywarp's face.

“This is like when you leave me in the interrogation room...alone...not knowing what is going to happen.”

Barricade drew himself up to sit beside Skywarp. “I never actually did that to you, Warp, and do you really think that is my style?” He asked off-handedly.

“Yes?”

“I thought you knew me better than that by now. I would have left you alone with some energon goodies.”

“Will there be energon goodies?”

Barricade growled, then dispensed a small snack-sized cube from a compartment along the inside of his left arm and offered it to Skywarp with his opposite hand.

Skywarp took the cube and looked at it. He sniffed. He gave the cube a tentative taste. He then popped it into his mouth and swallowed.

“You realize your little nervous breakdown makes you look guilty.”

“Does it?” Skywarp tried to sound innocent.

“Just tell me what it is so we can both get some real recharge. Now, is it because you fought with your fellow clones, or might it possibly have something to do with either Thundercracker or myself? Or, did you fight with your fellow clones because they indicated they knew something about Thundercracker or myself?”

Skywarp did not answer immediately.

“Warp, it's been what, hectocycles already we've known each other? You usually give me a bit of a challenge, which I like. Right now, you are a guilt-ridden mess that broke after less than a cycle of me doing nothing but being nice, and quiet. I hope the humans don't have energon goodies.”

“They have something called doughnuts. A toroid containing both sugars and carbohydrates: fast and slow burning solid fuels for carbon-based organic lifeforms. Very popular with Security and Enforcement workers. Often combined with stimulant-spiked liquid fuel.”

“You will feel better, if you tell me.”

“And then you will know.” And he would feel worse, probably.

“So, you do feel guilt over something that has to do with me?”

“I'm off my game right now.”

Barricade laughed, a little. Skywarp guessed he knew how it felt. Sometimes Barricade was the one at disadvantage. “You tell me, whatever it is, now, and maybe things are still good between us. But, if I have to go ask Thundercracker about it...will that end how you want?”

“I-” Skywarp started. He did want to tell, but he hoped he could say things in a way that made everything positive, the way he really believed in his spark, and not like...not like he was evil and using everyone. “I'll tell you.”

“Listening.”

Skywarp gave a nod; maybe Barricade saw. Skywarp could not make himself look at him. “It is not actually correct that I felt guilty because of something I did or did not do to you. They were separate. I felt...guilty, because I was cruel to Sunstorm, just because he was cruel to me. It didn't even make me feel better to mock him. It's not funny if he has real admiration for his elder brother, because I am the same.”

“TC, right?”

“You are not supposed to call him that,” Skywarp whispered.

“You were on comms, right?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Warp, as good as you may be at multi-tasking, there is a perceivable lag in audible conversation when a mech is comming and carrying a conversation at the same time. You and I used to do it all the time.”

Right, the physics discussions. “It was just...juvenile mocking, I suppose. Ramjet was claiming to know you were in my quarters, and I was trying to not definitely confirm that, while giving him cause to leave, anyway. And, they were mocking my taste, because you are a grounder. And they are the ones who were with Autobots! But somehow, I'm as bad and Dirge, who has two grounders...and he's the only one younger than I am!”

“Yeah. Warp. That's pretty slaggin' juvenile. Drench has grittier drama in his life.”

“Well...they made me mad.”

“That can't be it. You didn't get so worked up over that scrap, did you?”

Skywarp sighed. “Cade. Cade, when you said that...about 'familial ties' and 'interbreeding', I got really scared. I was afraid you already figured everything out. More than just afraid. Maybe even paranoid. You actually already know, don't you?”

“It will be better if you say it.” There was a little more rasp and static in Cade's tone than usual.

“If I say it, and you did not actually know, then it will be my fault.”

“What will be your fault?”

“That you go away.”

“If you do not say it, I will go away. And, that's not an ultimatum! That's just true. I like playing games with you, but sometimes, it's not a game. If you tell me, then at least you get points for being straight with me.”

“If it's not a game, then there are no 'points'!”

“It was-” Barricade growled again. “Just tell me the truth. If I go or stay, is always my choice. Right? If I keep choosing not to betray you, then whatever we have can continue for me and be real. It means you have choices, too. You can choose to tell me what you have obviously been hiding, or you can choose to betray my trust, right now.”

“Thundercracker and I are not compatible mates,” Skywarp said rapidly, “It's probably because we are both cloned from the same template. I don't even know if it is right or wrong for clones to want to breed with each other, but we did, or we do – we just can't.”

“Now, tell me the other part,” Barricade whispered.

Skywarp turned his head and looked at Barricade directly. He was physically trembling. Skywarp realized, only then, Barricade might have been tense and trembling like this for some time, because Skywarp had not allowed himself to look him in the optics – to even look toward him.

It could have been fear, or rage. Skywarp hoped it was not rage. He had never seen Barricade really angry. If it was rage, Barricade would probably shred him with claws and blades if he made a wrong move.

Skywarp held his gaze, carefully reaching with his right hand to touch Cade's arm, watching for a sign of attack. “I want you,” Skywarp confessed, “I would take you as my mate. I desire to breed with you.”

There was about a nanoklik in which Skywarp feared his confession had ruined everything, then Cade kissed him. It was so frighteningly good. Skywarp was completely confused. Had he feared for nothing?

“Cade,” he said, pressing Barricade from him.

“Not Now!” He grappled with Skywarp, trying to pull him closer, shift his weight against him.

Completely confused. “No talking 'not now' or 'not now' is your-? Skywarp succumbed to Barricade's grappling moves and toppled forward.

“Not now,” Barricade repeated and grasped Skywarp's helm to drawn him close enough to kiss. It was like a dark and secret place had flavor.

Skywarp tried comms. 'What do you mean “not now”?' 

'Warp, I want your spark!'

'Now?'

'Not now.'

'Not spark now, or not comm now, or did you mean not breed now?'

Skywarp felt the smile. 'Just “not now”.'

Skywarp was going to comm anyway. Barricade was clearly not finished sampling every unit of area along the interior of his mouth. '“Not now” is not no, or never.' 

'It's not yes, either.'

Skywarp pulled Barricade's arms from him and pinned his wheels to the berth. “So, 'not now' means you get to string me along for as long as you want, fully knowing my intentions?” He asked.

Barricade laughed. “Pretty much. You want to bail on me?”

“Not Now,” Skywarp replied. He saw Barricade watching him, with all four optic lenses. He was warm, ventilating rapidly. “Very well played, though. I did not see that coming.”

“Neither did I, actually,” Barricade confessed. “Not scared, or guilty, or nervous?”

“No.” Skywarp could feel he was smiling. He knew Thundercracker would like it, if he were there, but at the moment, Skywarp did not really miss him.

“You feel happy. Told ya you'd feel better if you confessed.”

“You want to try to recharge' now?” Skywarp asked.

“Recharging I can do, now.” Barricade invited with a tip of his head. Skywarp lay down, securing Barricade beneath his left arm and wing, without putting his full weight upon him. It felt good; the mingling fields communicated positive things. Details could be worked-out later; right now he needed to enjoy these feelings.

Never go into recharge angry, guilty, or frightened, again, Skywarp told himself. He had no fear that disturbing images or memories would plague his processor while in sleep-mode.


	8. Chapter 8

First shift was ending, everything had gone smoothly, thanks to Thundercracker's supreme leadership...and the competence of his crew. The Lycoris had continued on its way through the Solar System and now was moving between the orbits of Mars and Earth, with the Acheron close behind, on course to Luna. They had been in contact with Slipstream in the last shift. She and Starscream had succeeded in contacting Decepticons on Earth and determining which would cooperate.

Skywarp slunk onto the command deck and then stepped lightly up to the side of Thundercracker's chair. Thundercracker had not seen Skywarp, but for a few kliks in briefing each other about duty, in one entire rotation, and had not seen much of him in the last several. It was a little early for his shift, by at least two kliks. Barricade, Thundercracker noticed, was not with him. The others were starting to talk. Thundercracker had no doubt that Skywarp and Barricade had not allowed themselves to be seen together, but by nature of their constantly being together, secretly, neither one had been seen alone by anyone either, which was just as conspicuous as being seen together.

If it had concerned Thundercracker when appearances were that he may secretly be in a relationship with his second-in-command, or that he had designated no mate, then it concerned him more now it appeared his secret and unnamed mate and subordinate was romantically linked with the grounder pilot several ranks beneath them. His ego could not withstand the shift from being one perceived attractive and powerful enough to make Skywarp his paramour, to one perceived as losing his chosen mate to a low-ranked grounder. His logic circuits were under stress. Yet, this was all, technically, what Thundercracker had said he wanted.

“Sir? May I debrief you in private?”

Thundercracker glanced up at Skywarp, seated on the arm of the command chair. The coward had become exceedingly coy, and here barely attempted subtlety or discretion. Thundercracker felt a need to scold him a little. How dare Skywarp besmirch his most excellent reputation!

“I have maintained a flawless command log, there is no need to reiterate what you may simply access or download.”

Skywarp leaned in toward Thundercracker's left side, his right hand sliding over the edge of Thundercracker's left wing. Skywarp's claws dug into the transformation seam behind Thundercracker's neck and stroked the cables within. It caused Thundercracker's systems flare with warning that sharp implements were in proximity to vital internal components. It also caused his desire to flare. Thundercracker could hear Skywarp's pleading tone, “Please. In private.”

Thundercracker's logic circuits were in conflict, his processor running hot. He both wanted, and rejected the idea of Skywarp being close with Barricade. Were Skywarp and Barricade orchestrating a coup? Did Skywarp hope to betray him as Starscream had Megatron? Use Thundercracker to gain rank and then cast him aside? Damage his standing before their subordinates? Or, was Warp still his? His beloved? Courting the grounder on Thundercracker's own command?

Skywarp's voice came to him over their frequently used communication scheme, as when he had saved face for Thundercracker so many times, or when he just wanted to chat or share a joke. 'You can debrief me, then, if you like. Progress report? Duty shift revisions, maybe?'

Skywarp's touch grounded Thundercracker's taxed circuits; it had the effect of evoking an emotional response in Thundercracker which superseded logic arguments. Thundercracker stood quickly, Skywarp's hand falling away from him. “Office, Vice-Admiral.”

Thundercracker walked briskly to the office adjacent to the command deck. He was confident Skywarp followed. Thundercracker heard the door slide shut, and then felt Skywarp lean onto his back. “Does it feel better?” Skywarp asked. His tone was somewhere between coy and that suggestive tone their sister hated Starscream to use; low, colored with rasp and static, seductive. “I can feel your doubt, but if I let myself feel my love for you, and hold that, then the doubt and jealousy is not too scary. You can feel it?”

He could. Right now, he sensed his spark pressed deep within its chamber, not because it resisted what was before it, but because Skywarp was behind him. Thundercracker felt relieved, loved, but also angry at himself for the doubt.

His ego argued at him again. He could not possibly be at fault. He was so wondrously superior to all the dim reality about him, that there must be some external cause to blame. He was not at fault. Yet, he argued, maybe it was his own superiority that enabled him to have such clarity of perception to find flaws with everything. If not for his superiority, he would be unaware of the flaws. He would know no uncertainty, or conflict of logic. So, his anger was toward himself, in a way. He wanted, still, to be superior, and yet he wanted to be free of the concerns that everything be so appropriately perfect and correct, yet was not. 

He wanted Skywarp, yet wanted a mate with whom he could breed. He had commanded Skywarp to find a third, yet desired Skywarp for himself. He disdained grounders, yet was bound by his honor to accept Skywarp's choice. He loved Skywarp, yet hated that another had such power over him. 

“You know that helpful thing you say to me sometimes, when I have an anxiety attack?” Skywarp asked.

“Yes: Do not think. Just do it,” Thundercracker said. Do not think. Just...feel that Skywarp was loyal. Feel that Skywarp loved him.

Skywarp walked around Thundercracker. He kept in contact all the while, with his claws on Thundercracker's wings. “We've neglected some of our needs.”

“It was best for the cause. A good leader can be self-sacrificing. Lead by example. Provide for the team.”

“You are a good leader,” Skywarp agreed. “I have to take this next shift, but I will see if I can find a way to come to you.” He lay his helm aside Thundercracker's canopy, just over his spark. Thundercracker could feel Skywarp's arms about his midsection. “You do not have to say if you have need. I can say that I have need. I need to be with you.”

“You need to be with 'Cade'.”

“Not right now. It's done. He's mine. He might be pretending he's entirely in love with me, but if he keeps pretending that forever, it amounts to the same thing. The trust, and the love are real for him.”

“A little smug, Vice-Admiral?” Thundercracker scolded. He supposed that Skywarp knew about the tattoos now. He acknowledged Skywarp's choice, and it had seemed obvious Barricade was attracted to Skywarp – at least on a primitive breed-focused level – yet Thundercracker was not at peace with the concept of there being three of them involved. Even knowing he had commanded it and sworn to honor the choice. He walked from Skywarp and sat down at the workstation. He activated the monitors to view the command stations from remote. Ramjet had everything in order.

Skywarp draped himself over the back of the chair. Thundercracker felt Warp's claw-tips on the points of his helm. “Thundercracker.”

“Yes?”

“Don't you sometimes feel just a little smug that you have me?” Skywarp prompted, “but I know that the feeling is real. Serious. It is good that you are smug. That means you value me highly. So, Cade should be flattered if he happens to learn that I spoke smugly about him.”

“From whom, Skywarp?” Thundercracker was not going to make a point of mentioning how smug Skywarp was, to anyone. It bothered him. He should be the smug one. He should be proud to have found two mechs willing to pledge themselves to him! Why Skywarp? Why should it have been so easy for him?

Thundercracker hated that he felt such negative emotion toward Skywarp, who was otherwise so precious and dear to him.

Skywarp tried another approach. “You wanted me to find a third.”

“You performed admirably. So quickly. I should be proud, except I do believe the hectocycles of physics discussions had something to do with that.”

Skywarp walked around Thundercracker again, this time kneeling at his side. “I love him.”

“Did you-? Your sparks?”

“No,” Skywarp answered; he lay his claws along Thundercracker's thigh, “but I would like to. Just like I want your spark. Actually, I would really love, if you were both my mates.”

Thundercracker's spark spun at the idea, or else at the rasping emotion in Skywarp's vocalizer at the moment. He replied calmly, “That was the point.”

“Yes, but, I know we are not all ready. Just finding the third is not the end of it, only the beginning. I had a good feeling about you from the start – that is not true – You were really scary at first.”

Thundercracker smiled to himself. “Not as scary as recharging alone in the cold, gray, darkness of the surface of Luna.”

“Right. You looked preferable to all the scariness about me, but it still took us time...to get closer. Sometimes, one of us had to wait. You said you trusted me to choose.”

“I did.”

“I choose Barricade, but I am telling you now: we can't just breed immediately. I believe that would be a bad choice. We need to wait until everyone is ready. There's no shame in it, no matter what anyone says: in waiting, in keeping things private, in not breeding when it seems our peers and subordinates all carry newsparks.”

Thundercracker was driven to rage, “How can it be that someone like me should suffer this inability to do what filthy rutting animals do? My superior-!” Thundercracker saw Skywarp flinch. He stopped, still angered, frustrated, but not expressing it, except through ragged ventilations.

“I am not the best one to answer,” Skywarp said slowly, “but that is why you and Cade may be better matched than you want to understand.”

Thundercracker clenched his claws into fists. Skywarp still touched his leg, though lightly. “Impudent grounder!” Thundercracker bellowed.

Skywarp moved close again; there was a little of the old caution in his expression with wide eyes and slack jaw just threatening to stammer, but the movement overall was fluid, limbs languid. His claws caressed Thundercracker's wings as Skywarp sat himself in Thundercracker's lap. “You said you would approve of my choice.”

Thundercracker spoke, no longer angry, but back to stern and formal; his superior reasoning informing him, despite his great conflict, that acceptance was the best response, “I officially approve. If he will agree, then I agree. I acknowledge our need, and flightless though he is, his being a grounder does probably indicate his codes are substantially varied from ours, making him a good mate for two who are Seeker clones.” Thundercracker hated admitting he was a clone. He knew it, always knew it was true, but he hated to think about being the copy. He was an improvement on a template; an upgraded version. “At least he is a pilot.”

“There, you can see good in him already!”

“Nice colors.” Barricade's colors were actually a close match for Skywarp's; black with lavender and silver detailing.

“What else?”

“He is strong for his size.”

“Like you,” Skywarp said, it would have sounded cheery, except his vocalizer still had the low rasp of seduction, so it sounded like a tease.

Thundercracker was strong for his build. Maybe, grounder that he was, Barricade might actually be a good match – on a strictly mechological basis. It seemed codes for darkly colored, strong, flying, mechs with knowledge of physics would predominate in potential offspring. But, Thundercracker worried about the chance of getting a weak, blue, femme car, without any knowledge of flight or motion beyond two dimensions.

“Cade's a little afraid of you right now,” Skywarp explained. Thundercracker supposed this was Skywarp's reason for broaching the subject at this time. Barricade and he were ready to spark, but Cade was not so eager to be close to Thundercracker.

Thundercracker scoffed wordlessly. Barricade should fear, Thundercracker thought, and then, he thought, Barricade should adore him. Not that he desired Barricade – everyone should adore one so impressive as Thundercracker. He was torn between thinking himself most fearsome and most attractive. “I am sure I know, but just so we can be clear: why does he fear me? I have not been overly stern with him, or gone to effort to intimidate him.”

“It is you specifically,” Skywarp said, but then, “but he seems most afraid of ruining his career. Barricade doesn't tend to discuss his feelings easily.”

“Not the way you might.” Thundercracker was certain it was an interrogation every time.

“No,” Skywarp agreed. He played idly with Thundercracker's helm, “You remember he served on the Nemesis when Starscream and Megatron were in command. He fears being like Starscream: the one most likely to get either sparked-up or slagged by their Leader. You are considered a Leader among Decepticons, Thundercracker.”

“Deservingly so. I have many grand schemes.”

“So, naturally, it is a bit intimidating for a subordinate to feel capable of being with you in an intimate situation.”

The term was fraternizing; not Thundercracker's ideal, but at this point it would certainly seem improper if he promoted Barricade. He rather saw Barricade's point. “He manages to do it with you,” Thundercracker said.

“I actively pursued his company.”

Thundercracker was most certainly not going to pursue the grounder, but maybe he could be understanding, or accepting if Barricade were to offer his companionship. He was not the most worthy; Skywarp was. Maybe, if Thundercracker thought of them as a special, exclusive offering to him alone. “I do not...dislike Barricade. He performs adequately. I let him use our wash facilities! I showed tremendous compassion for him, when he was suffering hyper-arousal.”

“You injured his arm!”

“He will be stronger for it!” Thundercracker then added, “The sparring match was fair enough. He badly needed to work out his aggression. I do not ordinarily seek to enter combat with mechs already at disadvantage.”

“You are honorable that way,” Skywarp said softly, “Did you really doubt me? I thought you would be all over me as soon as the door slid shut.”

Thundercracker was uncertain how to answer. Uncertainty frustrated him greatly. He should be perfectly capable of decisiveness and confidence. He should have shown Skywarp, physically, he was wanted. They were alone, and they had worked-out past differences. So, he should have, unless he really had doubted Skywarp that much.

“Hold me,” Skywarp prompted.

Thundercracker lifted his fisted claws from his sides and allowed himself to touch Skywarp. He had been jealous, terribly jealous, he realized, of Barricade for receiving so much of Skywarp's attention, and of Skywarp for attracting lovers with such seeming ease. But now, with Warp siting in his lap, touching him, Thundercracker knew there had been no true need for jealousy. He could feel through the mingling energy fields that Skywarp was no less his. He loved Thundercracker no less, was loyal and willing to share all that was his. Skywarp was his. Still. Always. Even if he was also Barricade's.

“I find you a worthy companion still,” Thundercracker whispered.

“Glad to hear it, My Lord!” Skywarp said loudly, then in low rasping whisper, “I'm yours. Safe with you. Can do anything with you...for you.”

Thundercracker's last doubt and jealousy faded. He wondered vaguely if he would struggle again, in the future, and again, to know if things were right with Skywarp. He willed the thought from his processor. Of course things would be right, he told himself. He was Thundercracker! He was the best lover, the best mate! He could provide for his most worthy companion. He could protect him. He could please him. 

“Yes! There you are!” Skywarp cried, “Right there! You feel so good right now!”

Skywarp's desperate, excited words drove the logic and thought from Thundercracker's processor and he was able to act according to his feelings. Thundercracker put his claws to Skywarp's wing and hip, tugged and drew him tight against his canopy. “I want you,” he said, even as he received a communications ping from Ramjet. Thundercracker ignored the comm.

“Thundercracker!” Skywarp's field surged with desire and annoyance. “They're comming me!”

Thundercracker was in no mood to be reasonable or logical. He had been supremely patient while Skywarp courted Barricade. He had resisted for sake of propriety, for duty, for his own reluctance to accept that anyone could be equal to him in Skywarp's calculation.

Skywarp trilled giddy laughter. “You want to do it now?”

“You have-?”

“Protection? Yeah.” Skywarp put his claws to Thundercracker's chest vents.

“Yes!” Thundercracker put his left-hand claws to an aileron; the right low on Skywarp's cockpit canopy.

Skywarp trilled wordlessly. 

The door slid open behind Thundercracker. He swiveled the chair at the sound and saw Barricade come in. “Sirs,” he said.

Thundercracker hissed. Barricade remained in formal military stance, averting his optics...mostly. Thundercracker perceived the particular lighting of the lenses that suggested that a single upper lens of Barricade's uncommon dual optics was focused on them. Obvious he and Skywarp were not merely debriefing each other.

“Much as I hate to interrupt coitus....” Barricade said, with not-quite-disguised amusement.

Coitus?

'He's using Ancient Cybertronian,' Skywarp commed privately, 'he means breeding activity.' Skywarp pressed a kiss to Thundercracker's lip plates. Their mouths were not open enough for a sufficient sample, so the gesture, Thundercracker surmised, was entirely for show: for Barricade's benefit. Or, maybe it was more a torment intended to drive him to distraction, to prove Skywarp had the power to make him drop his formal stance.

Maybe it was an enticement to join them.

“Skywarp, stop teasing the Sergeant, before he attempts to flaunt his arcane knowledge over us again, like a certain other we know, when feeling threatened by physically superior specimens.”

“Yes, Sir. Flaunting superiority is a clear indicator of one's feeling threatened.”

Thundercracker growled in annoyance.

“Ramjet wants us informed they shift-change is overdue and if one of us does not appear on the bridge, Ramjet would have to remain or else give-over command to you?”

“Correct, Sir,” Barricade said to Skywarp.

Skywarp pressed close, put his mouth aside Thundercracker's helm and whispered near his right audio receptor. “Later, I promise. I'll make time. Find a way.”

Thundercracker did not speak, but lifted his right hand to the back of Skywarp's helm and held him close. This was how their faction had dwindled: too many sacrifices, secrets and stolen moments.

“I know,” Skywarp whispered, and then spoke to Barricade, “Barricade, please inform Ramjet he is dismissed and I will comm him myself a little later. You have command for the moment. Inform the others I will be there shortly for the usual briefing.”

“Sir,” he acknowledged and then keyed the pad beside the door to open it.

“I want you still,” Thundercracker said.

“I know,” Skywarp promised again, “I feel it. But, it is not for much longer. Starscream will be back soon, or we will reach Luna. We will still have duties there, but perhaps not so many optics on us, or such a strict schedule as serving aboard a starship in transit.”

Thundercracker felt enveloped and penetrated both; overwhelmed by emotion, as if Skywarp had willed all his adoration, faith, loyalty, trust, desire and love towards him. He felt like he was floating, flying, no longer conscious of his shell. His field contracted inwards, about his spark. The chambers were not even open, but Thundercracker felt them beginning to merge.

Thundercracker wanted it, and yet it was true Skywarp was needed on duty. He moaned wordlessly, in torment of mixed want and refusal.

Skywarp withdrew. All his bright, warm, perfect energy slipped away.

“Spark tease,” Thundercracker accused.

Skywarp lifted his left leg over Thundercracker's lap to climb off of him. He stood then at Thundercracker's left side. “You have two shifts off this rotation. Leave command to me. Get some R&R.”

“I would much prefer you were there, My Dear.”

“I will think of something. You're not the only one who can form grand schemes.”

Skywarp was a mastermind. “If you leave Barricade in command too often, it will only increase the speculation and rumor.”

“There are other capable members of the team,” Skywarp insisted, “the current duty schedule favors many of the publicly known partners in granting them off-shifts together, to our detriment, but that also means they now have had time to take their quality time together for granted, enough that they might give it up once every few rotations to do us a favor.”

“Then, I shall keep you to your promise to make time to be with me, later.”

“There's a thought to keep me warm while on duty!” Skywarp laughed.

“Do not get too distracted, Vice-Admiral.”

“I can multi-task.” At that, Skywarp went to the door, leaving Thundercracker alone, seated near the workstation, in the office.

Sometimes, Thundercracker wished for a back door to this chamber. For a few kliks, he did nothing, just leaned back in the chair with only primary systems active, resting, and trying not to focus overly much on Skywarp.

When he left the office, passing through the command deck, Skywarp was in the command chair, with those subordinates usually assigned to second shift at the stations below. Everything seemed in good order as Thundercracker left.

He did not wish to go alone to his berth. He had avoided that as much as possible, preferring to recharge within the office. He had not wanted to spend time in those chambers he shared with Skywarp, alone. And, he had also not wished to accidentally encounter Skywarp and Barricade at their play, whatever it may have involved.

Thundercracker went to the place he felt next most comfortable. He went down to the combat deck. He felt more satisfaction proving himself superior against live sparring partners, but being without a partner, decided on the target range. They did not use such munitions that would compromise hull integrity aboard the starship, but Thundercracker could at least test his targeting systems at default values.

It was not the same as combat, without contact or kickback, but it demanded Thundercracker's focus. Targeting and firing lasers and sonic shock blasters in training mode passed the time, maintained his superfluous skills, and gave him something to think about other than Skywarp.

Thundercracker practiced for two full cycles. His scores were excellent, of course. When he was finished, he switched his weapons systems from training back to his preferred settings, and then left the range.

Barricade was in the corridor, not waiting, at least not apparently. He was moving toward Thundercracker from his left. Thundercracker, heard the light click of heels moving quickly away to his right. Obviously, to Thundercracker's sublime deductive abilities, this was a set-up.

“You were looking for me?” Skywarp would know Barricade was not at his station, and so Thundercracker assumed at least three of them to be in on the scheme. Thundercracker suspected Drench as their lookout.

“You looking for a sparring partner?”

“Offering?”

“Yeah.”

Now, Thundercracker stood still and looked down at Barricade directly. “You have so much frustration to work-out you are looking to have me injure you again?”

“No,” Barricade shrugged, “Not looking for the injury, just exercise; a bit of competition.”

Thundercracker laughed. “Sergeant, is this an attempt to entice me?”

“Just a means to enjoy our common interests.”

“I take your meaning.” Thundercracker said, “An attempt to expand the common ground?”

Barricade shrugged again. “Do you want to get a match in, or not?”

“You are not much of a challenge, and I am not actually interested in causing you harm. I have a better way you may serve.”

“If you say 'in the berth', I will lose all respect for you right now, General.”

Thundercracker smirked, “You do it in a berth?”

Barricade's lose of composure was priceless. Well, if this scheme of theirs was ever to work, Cade would have to learn to appreciate Thundercracker's sense of humor.

“Honestly, I am flattered you even pretend respect for me. Confident as I am in deserving respect, I am informed you are not one to easily give it.”

“Trust has to be earned and maintained. Real trust.”

“Of course. In a faction such as ours, we do not have leaders who are elected, or inherit power. I expect each of you to follow my orders right up until the point you decide to rebel.”

Barricade looked thoughtful, crossing his arms and giving a nod. “You and I still do not really know each other, so we cannot realistically trust each other to lead or obey. You've shown you are stronger than me, but Megatron was stronger than Starscream.”

“Starscream died,” Thundercracker pointed out.

“Yes, but he actively rebelled, even against a stronger opponent, because he believed in a cause.”

“Himself.”

“And you?” Barricade laughed, “You do not believe in yourself?”

“What do you think?” Thundercracker asked.

“I think you had some conversation with Megatron in New Kaon, before we all left, and came out of it with no less authority than when you entered; and I think Skywarp and Slipstream consistently defend your leadership, even as they recruit their own followers; and Starscream, who was proven second to Megatron, recognizes your authority and defers to you in many aspects of leadership.”

“Yes. My aim is to surpass them both: Megatron and Starscream.”

“My aim was to stay out of the politics and not get noticed for special assignments, or end up as berth mate to anyone in my chain-of-command.”

“A bit of a failure, there,” Thundercracker observed.

“I am saying, Sir, we have no reason to trust each other, but I trust Warp...”

It was not certain they had no reason to trust each other in Thundercracker's opinion. Barricade had acted in Drench's defense; he had covered for a Seeker youngling, before giving aid to another grounder. Thundercracker supposed it was possible that Barricade had acted in order to gain some reward, but he could see no obvious motive except to ingratiate himself to the Seekers. Barricade's past goals had seemed in conflict with that. “That would be the common ground.”

Barricade nodded again. “So, you said there was something?”

Thundercracker made a nod in return. “Come. I will show you a way we can know each other, even test each other, without a fight.” He turned away from Barricade, and moved along the corridor the way Drench had run earlier. He heard Barricade's soft clanging steps behind him; sensed his proximity.

“This way...does the rest of the crew see?” Barricade asked as they reached the next turbolift.

Thundercracker entered the lift and selected a level several above the combat deck. “I am sure you will think of something to say to explain why you are with me.”

A short while later, Thundercracker and Barricade entered recreation area sigma. It was furnished with comm and media stations, seating, tables, and drone operated fuel dispensary. Currently, Dirge was holding court. He was wearing his half-spectacles as usual, plus a new helm – Thundercracker supposed someone on the team was fabricating new ones for his collection – this one gold with side vents detailed in teal, to lend the appearance of blue and gold stripes, and a stack of chevrons deeper than those atop Barricade's helm. He was sitting at a table playing a game of chance with Swindle, Runamuck and Falcia, while Dead End and Falcia's teammates Combusta and Twirl were partaking of rations nearby.

Acid Storm and Drench were elsewhere in the room, watching a video program.

Thundercracker went to the drone and requested energon from his allotment, while Barricade wandered over to Cid and Drench.

“Has my elder brother decided three is not such a scary number?” Dirge wondered, conspicuously aloud.

Thundercracker slapped him upside the back of his helm, as he passed by with his drink. He found Barricade watching the drama. He was not very familiar with the program, but it appeared to be one of those Paradronian dramas set on pre-war Cybertron. A couple of Cybertronian fliers were engaged in fairly intimate activity in what seemed a small recharge chamber within dormitory or barracks. “You allow your little one to view such vulgar entertainment?”

Acid Storm laughed airily. “Thundercracker, I thought you were to bring back better times to the faction with the understanding that there is no more shame in intimacy than combat, if each is done honorably.”

“Yes, well, that is so, but-”

“The characters in this show are not courting or breeding like grown mechs,” Drench said knowledgeably, “They are just playing: testing each other, testing their shells, experimenting to know what they can do, or seeking comfort in a stressful situation.”

“How do you know?” Thundercracker demanded.

“He is not your mech to discipline, General, yet,” Acid Storm whispered.

Thundercracker bowed slightly in acknowledgement to Drench's creator.

Drench replied anyway. “My creator is currently carrying a newspark,” he said in seemingly jaded tone.

Barricade commed, 'Drench does not actually know the details. He has been given a basic overview of the stages to explain what he may witness in media or in older mechanisms.' It was exactly what Skywarp would have done, if he had known the information. Yet, Thundercracker did not know if Barricade was comming to save face for him, or to protect Drench, again. 'You would have heard such an explanation if you were not a clone.'

Thundercracker straightened and purposefully gave no indication of receiving Barricade's explanation, or mention of his being a clone. He said then, “We are proud of Acid Storm and Overcast,” he paused momentarily, “You know, Warp and Dirge and both younger than I am, but they are no more special.”

“Just cuter,” Barricade said smartly.

Thundercracker grasped Barricade's nearby upper tire in his claws and pulled. “Sergeant. With me. Now.”

Barricade complained wordlessly at the pressure and moved quickly to walk after Thundercracker, claws still in his tire. Thundercracker led Barricade to a nearby, vacant table. He gave the tire a spin in passing, then sat in one of the seats, facing the door. He set down the energon on the table as he went through his collection of holomatter gaming boards. Barricade sat down in the seat opposite. He sank as low in the chair as his form would allow; Cade had bits of car across his upper back and blade-like glass wings.

“Don't spin the tires.”

Thundercracker huffed through his vents. Grounder probably liked the feeling of spinning tires, traction, acceleration, and such. He decided on Chess and projected the board onto the table. “It is not only important the shell remain in peak condition; the mind must also be sharp. Since the duty schedule deprives me of my regular playmate, and you are supposed to be smart, I have decided you may be my substitute opponent, such as your schedule allows.”

“Strategy game,” Barricade observed. “Many systems have a variation of such games: moving tiles or tokens on a board. What are the objectives? Parameters of game play?”

“Chess. Earth strategy game. The humans of Earth often program their subservient automatons and computers to play and then become frustrated when they lose to the superior logic of machines. The objective is to capture the king. There are six types of pieces, each with different rules for movement on the board....” Thundercracker continued describing the rules of play.

They played then. Barricade always took, it seemed to Thundercracker, the maximum amount of allotted time to make his move. Thundercracker played confidently, moving his piece as soon as he had decided on the best move. Thundercracker began to find the waiting during each of Barricade's turns increasingly annoying.

They played on, each being forced to sacrifice some pieces. Thundercracker calculated the number of different legal moves Barricade might take, his possible responses to each, and Barricade's possible responses in turn.

“Your turn,” Barricade said, finally releasing the piece he had moved. The door to the recreation room slid open, admitting Skywarp.

Thundercracker glanced to Skywarp and saw his approach, then quickly returned his focus to the game board. Barricade had taken so long in considering his last move, that Thundercracker was already decided on a move. Skywarp stopped at his side as Thundercracker moved and released his piece.

“Interesting,” Barricade said, then began moving his optic lenses to study the board, as if they had not been viewing it for a cycle already.

“Vice-Admiral?” Thundercracker prompted.

Skywarp was more discreet here than he had been on the command deck and stood a step behind and to the right of Thundercracker's seat. He bowed and spoke quietly at his right audio receptor, “Slipstream is back aboard.”

“Alone?”

“For now. Starscream is safe, on Earth. Slipstream says she has some orders from him, which she was asked to deliver personally. She reports there is no urgency, but that she will be aboard, at least until we reach Luna, to help in carrying out these new orders.”

“Do we need to debrief now?”

“No hurry. She is covering Command for me right now. Your game will be over soon, anyway?”

“What do you mean by that?” Thundercracker demanded. Barricade took his time on every move! Even as he thought it, Thundercracker saw Barricade's amused expression.

Barricade moved his piece, without taking the full allotted time, and let go of the holomatter quickly.

Thundercracker glared, understanding finally that Barricade's slow moves were all part of his strategy. Thundercracker was running out of viable moves. He was not in check, yet, but he did not have the pieces he needed to be confident about winning at this stage of the game. He ran through his calculations again; considering all possible legal moves, and Barricade's likely responses. It was not yet decided that Barricade would win, but it was statistically more probable than his loss to Thundercracker.

“I cede to you,” Thundercracker said, “I need to go meet with Slipstream.”

“Maybe sometime in the future I will have an opportunity to beat you fairly,” Barricade said, “Sir.”

Thundercracker shut off the projection. “It was probably beginners luck. I was going easy on you, so you could have a chance to learn.”

“Whatever you say, Sir.” Barricade did not sound like he really agreed.

Skywarp laughed lightly. Thundercracker stood then and turned to regard Skywarp. “Forgive me, Sir” Skywarp said, “an amusing thought just happened to enter my processor.”

“Your drink is here, General,” Barricade called.

“Finish for me,” Thundercracker said, without looking back at Barricade. He had hardly touched the energon, just left it between them on the table. “I know you put such effort into resisting stealing a drink.”

“I don't need it.”

“Cade,” Skywarp said pleasantly, “The general has paid you an honor for being such a worthy opponent. Are you going to refuse the honor?”

“Thank you, Sir,” Barricade said. Thundercracker shifted to watch Barricade from the corners of his optics and saw him drink. “Warp,” he said then, “I happened to read an interesting article about a Physics approach to Sparkological theory and Spark Chromodynamics. Are you familiar with it?”

“No. I look forward to you sharing your thoughts on the topic, but I must tend to some command-related matters, with Thundercracker. Perhaps if we have an off-shift together. I will see you on the Command Deck third shift.”

Thundercracker left the recreation area, with Skywarp just behind him.

“Did you have a good time?” Skywarp asked, when they were alone.

“I knew it was a set-up.”

“Answer my question?” Skywarp asked, as they continued along the corridor.

“Barricade was an adequate opponent. He takes too long to make his moves.”

Skywarp laughed. “He's a little more than adequate, then.”

“He does it on purpose?”

“I did say you and Cade may be better matched than you want to understand. He could be surprisingly good for you.”

“How? Annoying me into being a better Leader?” Thundercracker demanded.

“Yes.” Skywarp sighed, “I hope you do not make it too easy for him. You could be surprisingly good for him, too.”

“So glad it amuses you,” Thundercracker said, suddenly Ramjet.

“You have no idea!”

“Oh? I am beginning to. Be careful you do not overstep your bounds, my most loyal Skywarp.”

“I know you will punish me, if I do,” Skywarp said. “Slipstream does not really need us this klik. We could go back to our quarters for a while, if you want.”

Thundercracker stopped. “You are unfailingly devious, My Dear,” Thundercracker said. He felt Skywarp's arms snake about him from behind.

“I could warp us there right now.”

“Now,” Thundercracker agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last chapter I wrote and posted. I want to continue this fic. But, I don't expect there will be **many** more chapters, as future adventures beyond the three getting together will most likely be addressed in separate fics.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I re-read the fic before continuing (after a long interval) I'm worried I may be in error in the timing of events during the voyage. I apologize if this is the case.

Barricade was having a _stellar_ cycle (read: a lot of heavenly bodies and Starscream clones, but not actually very wondrous or special). He'd managed to get called-in to work his usual off-shift, by Slipstream, who was covering for Thundercracker, then continued to make it a double-shift, covering for Ramjet, who was in turn covering for Skywarp. Seemed there were shift changes all around, as crew decided to get around to whatever last-klik things they'd been putting off until it became absolutely obvious there were mere cycles until they reached Luna. Of course this meant - no pressure - Barricade was also the one to pilot the Lycoris into its neat parking spot at the gravitational liberation point on the side of Luna opposite Earth. Now, on the one servo, Barricade should have been glad for the honor of this high-profile assignment, despite it being against his usual determination to keep a low profile, because at least actual application of his _completely rudimentary_ piloting kept him from devoting a large percent of processing power to visualizing just what Thundercracker and Skywarp were doing with extra off-shifts. But, on the other servo, it meant he was around to witness Slipstream and Ramjet arguing - a curiosity to challenge even the most logical of minds, and which sounded a lot like almost-agreement - and slipping into the adjacent office, such that Barricade was technically _in command_ of the flagship for several cycles. But, again, no pressure!

Pressure was Slipstream coming from the office and putting herself inclose proximity to the helmsmech's chair to announce, "You should probably go tell our General and Vice-Admiral that we're arrived and we probably need to have a staff meeting."

"Was that a command?" Barricade retorted, before he could think better of it. Slipstream was no less quirky (read: glitched) than the rest of Starscream's happy family. Of course, Barricade had already been selected for the unwelcome task of informing top leadership that play time was over.

"What do _you_ think?" Slipstream asked, which, clearly, answered the question. The new question was whether Slipstream herself had also caught on to Thundercracker and Skywarp's designs for Barricade, or if Ramjet had dared her not to pick him.

"Think I'm slagged either way," he muttered, but Barricade dutifully exited the bridge and navigated his way to the officers' quarters Warp and TC shared.

He had the code for the door, but Barricade hesitated to use it. They could just be playing chess. Not long ago, he would have assumed such a thing of Thundercracker. But, now, recently, Barricade highly suspected strategy games were foreplay to Thundercracker. Strange, considering the way the others easily described hm as The Ego, but Barricade had only found the General _more_ interested in his company when he offered challenge -not that he set out to challenge anyone in his chain-of-command, but Thundercracker made it soooo easy.

And, there was the fact that Skywarp had all but admitted that Thundercracker expected him to recruit Barricade as their _third_. He hadn't said it, but they were obviously a package deal, and Barricade wasn't getting Warp without Thundercracker. At least, not any longer.

He was hooked. They - and probably half the crew - knew it.

Barricade keyed the door open and quickly stepped inside, even as it slid aside.

"Slag."

The door slid quietly closed behind him with a barely audible hiss. His duel optics focused on two things: 1, Skywarp's secondary wing-parts were fanned outward, exposing his backstruts. "Swallowtails", Barricade's translation protocols informed him. Some of that ironic avian terminology they used. Rhythmically swaying matte black swallowtails exposed protoform and spinal struts tattooed with Thundercracker's name and Barricade's confession of faith and love. 2. Thundercracker's half-shuttered and over-bright crimson optics peered at Barricade from behind Skywarp's wing. 

3 - Because Barricade quickly noticed a third thing the instant Warp shifted in Thundercracker's lap - TC's spark was blue!

4 - He couldn't not look at every part of this scene - Thundercracker wasn't wearing a helmet at all.

"Frag me," Barricade cursed. As if in answer, Thundercracker lifted his hips enough to temporarily unseat Skywarp. Barricade auto-tracked two sets of silvery talons grasping for purchase, and when they settled again, it was obvious the movement had all been for his benefit (read: torment). The ultra-violet glow of Skywarp's spark was reflected off the glossy gunmetal-gray detailing across Thundercracker's chest as the General's own spark chamber was sealed behind the usual curve of amber canopy glass. 

"Please," Skywarp begged, and Barricade wanted to go to him. He felt his own spark tumble within his core. And when he saw Thundercracker silence Warp with a kiss, Barricade's spark spun.

Of course, lucky him, his fraggin' interface protocols pinged him; flashed all over his HUD as all four optic lenses tracked the slow movement of Thundercracker's mouth: slight gloss of lubricant on the lip components, neat pale fangs likely sharp enough to pierce dermal plating, and the dark chin stripe that distinguished his jaw from those of the other clones. Didn't matter if he had stolen the look from Megatron, because, as Barricade was  helplessly realizing, Thundercracker may actually have become The Most Handsome Decepticon. He ranted whenever Dirge or Ramjet exposed the crests from beneath their helmets, yet here he was with some kinda special hexflake collection of wiry, silver spires that Barricade could only guess functioned as some kind of heat sink.

It was like that scene in a holo-drama where the scientist removes a pair of goggles to reveal super-pretty optics beneath. Thundercracker wasn't _supposed_ to be handsome. you couldn't have a boss or C.O. who was handsome, or if you did you couldn't _think_ of them that way. Bad enough Warp was so slaggin' cute! Bad enough Barricade served on a ship full of showy Seekers! Now he couldn't unsee Thundercracker this way. He used to be the imposing, humorless one with the old-fashioned helmet and swords.

Barricade already had 13 reasons to want Skywarp, all neatly logged and associated with a status that read: In a relationship. He watched Thundercracker worshipfully kiss Warp and it was like Barricade could taste the darkly bitter perfection again.And he really wanted to know what TC tasted like. Frag him, he wanted to make-out with the General.

He looked at Barricade as if he knew. Of course _he_ knew he was handsome, and magnificent, desirable, imposing, strong - He didn't even deny inheriting Starscream's egomania. Barricade just hadn't considered Thundercracker would also be _right_!

How? Was it merely because Barricade had glimpsed his spark - gorgeous bright indigo with a strong, steady glow - or did TC somehow _make_ himself less handsome when he was on duty? Barricade couldn't have been so unobservant as to have missed this, could he? Or had he just denied what he saw? Denied the brief expressions of selfless compassion when Drench was around? No. Those were logged. Ignored the slightest widening of his optics when Barricade shrugged at him? No. Noted. Missed the poorly veiled inquiries about learning to use bondage for Skywarp's sake? Oh, no, totally noticed that! Not caught on to what he was doing with Skywarp in the office a few shifts ago? No, they'd been near as close to coitus as they were now. Well, technically, this was probably post-coitus, or near to that as a couple came when using protection.

What was different was-

He was looking at Barricade.

They were looking at each other.

In private.

Thundercracker was _letting_ Barricade see him when not fully armored.

Barricade was trusted.

What he did with that trust was his choice. He'd learned that with Skywarp.

"TC," he whispered. No one corrected Barricade on using such a familiar short form.

Thundercacker looked toward Barricade a few astroseconds, then shuttered his optics and pressed his forehead to Skywarp's. Barricade recognized their posture as leave-taking. It could have been ritual greeting, except he knew this was after a period of togetherness. There were most likely private comms exchanged, so Barricade waited. The wait, of course, was made all the more awkward by his wondering whether this new attraction to Thundercracker might truly be mutual.

What if it went away? What if Thundercracker only thought he felt something for Barricade because he'd so recently merged sparks with Skywarp?

That Warp's feelings were true Barricade did not question, even though they'd never actually merged themselves.

Did it matter? Barricade was still entangled with the both of them, regardless of conscious designs.

"Well?" Thundercracker said aloud. The query sounded expectant, as if Barricade should know how to answer.

"Well what?"

Thundercracker disengaged from Skywarp, easily lifting the other Seeker and placing him farther along the surface of their recharge berth. He stood then, and raked claws through his exposed spires. "Were you not to visit Skywarp to discuss your spark color?" The tone was haughty as ever, but Barricade tracked the slight smirk, even as he had optics on Skywarp.

"Quantum Chromodynamics as related to sparkological studies," Skywarp corrected.

"Thought we only did that over comms," Barricade said, then seeing Skywarp's momentary confusion, sent the accompanying comm, 'correct TC, I mean,'

"We're the only ones here," Warp said.

"I am right here," Thundercracker reminded them, and then, pitching his voice quite low, in what Barricade suspected was his Megatron impression, "Or did I fail to anticipate the Sergeant's want of our wash facilities?" The fact that he stood at said facilities made his meaning pretty blatant rather than merely suggestive."

"How can anyone properly anticipate your moves when you take so long to make them!?" Barricade said in imitation of one of Thundercracker's own rants about things inappropriate and unworthy.

Skywarp gasped - shock or delight Barricade wasn't sure -  but Thundercracker merely smiled, as he activated a spray of water. "Touche"

"Check?" Barricade dared ask. .

"Maybe even Check _mate_?" The Pit if Thundercracker didn't look gorgeous with water beading off his finish, Barricade was tempted to watch with all four lenses, except Warp was still sprawled on the berth with an exposed spark chamber. Barricade couldn't very well look away from _that_! Cruel that they seemed to be daring him to choose one over the other, but-

Wasn't that what they'd nearly been doing to Warp?

"Mate? What's your consort gonna say about that?" Barricade was aware as he said it that either Seeker could slag him in an astrosecond, but banter went two ways.

 "Get over here!" Skywarp said giddily, He reached toward Barricade and caught an upper tire in his talons. Barricade went rigid. Oh, he wanted Warp, but he was afraid of that spark-glow. If he got any closer, he doubted he'd stop himself from a merge.

"I would encourage you to indulge Warp's desire for your spark, if our dear sister were not being almost insistent in her comms requesting immediate staff meeting to share our liege's latest plan."

"She sent me," Barricade confessed, daring to look entirely at Skywarp. He could see his spark, like a color beyond violet, and fixed within its chamber something like a golden needle. Barricade had known, at least suspected they had one, but he hadn't seen, hadn't known Skywarp would be wearing it. He reached out, un-thinking, claws pointing to the spinning orb of energy. He meant to say it was beautiful, but he asked, "Does it hurt"

Skywarp's answer didn't come right away. Instead he used his size to advantage and pulled Barricade toward his berth, even as he swung his legs over its edge. They were close, Barricade standing between Warp's legs, their foreheads pressed together. "It doesn't hurt, but-" Talons tapped at Barricade's chest, inviting him to open. He wanted to. "Spark arrester prevents residual energy or bonds. As soon as it's over, it's all the way over."

Barricade thought he understood Skywarp's earlier pleading at Thundercracker's sealing his chamber. Not that Barricade knew from experience, because most of his messing around had been mere tactile play, but even short of a bond or newspark, there was supposed to be some kind of residual energy after a merge. Like a temporary bond. A sense that something intimate had just been shared that stayed for a short while. This way Skywarp was assured he and his brother couldn't accidentally conceive a weak newspark, but he was denied the benefit of an easy transition. Perfect oneness and an instant later full separation.

"I'm sorry." Barricade imagined it was painful for Thundercracker to have to end the merge. He was certain Thundercracker made himself do it so Skywarp wouldn't have to. This also explained the ritual-like parting before Thundercracker left to wash himself.

"I know we're not ready," Skywarp whispered. He meant for the three of them to merge as one with intent to bond or conceive.

"No," Barricade agreed, vocalizer glitching into static. But it did mean, that if there were no residual energy, that whatever Thundercracker felt for Barricade, was all _Thundercracker_.

Skywarp was ready. He'd been ready, for both of them, probably since meeting in New Kaon.

Barricade had no clue if TC were ready.

And Him? Assuming he even survived a spark merge with a pair of Seekers - wasn't sure he'd physically make it through heavy petting with the pair - there was no way Barricade was mentally prepared to spark new life.However, his hardware was telling him otherwise.

"Touch me," Skywarp whispered.

Barricade's claws scissored involuntarily. His frame was certainly warming to the idea. "Can't" He could. Felt like his spark was pulsing inside him. "Won't stop."

"Who says I want you to? Skywarp asked, vocalizer pitched high, and a mischievous smirk on his lubricant-glossed lips. He meant: screw Slipstream and Starscream's Big News; Thundercracker and Skywarp were _home_.

Home was where it was safe to build your family.

Barricade would still be mortified when he left the room and absolutely fearful of what involvement in this triumvirate meant for his career and longevity, but none of that mattered here. The love and trust had become real for him. Bonds or not, their lives were already entangled. How entangled, Barricade didn't understand until hie kissed Warp. 

"Taste different," he murmured and sucked for more. Sweet. And the more Barricade sought the taste, the more diluted it seemed, until he drew himself up and looked pointedly at Warp with his pair of dual optics. "That's not all you."

Barricade dared roll a set of optics toward Thundercracker. He stood staring back at Barricade, chamois hanging from one hand, threatening to drop. "Different how?"

"Sweet," Barricade whispered. He wasn't sure the clones knew what that was supposed to mean. Bots could have entirely compatible chemistry and describe samplings of each other as smokey, or sour, or bitter. But sweet was the stuff of legends and recharge tales. Whatever they thought they knew was enough for Skywarp to slide right past Barricade and skip to TC. They transferred the chemical trace with a kiss.

Did Thundercracker stagger? Incomprehensible as it was, he seemed to fall against Warp. Barricade was certain they exchanged private comms.

"What?"

"Sergeant," Thundercracker addressed him, "My most beloved enforcement officer, I intend that Skywarp and myself," He paused to assume a position of genuflection before Barricade. "That we shall pay proper court to you in order to prove our worth as your future mates."

What??

Barricade shifted an optical lens up toward Warp who was standing just behind Thundercracker's right wing, like the perfect 2IC that he was. The other three lenses were watching Thundercracker for tells. Barricade couldn't spare a one for points of egress. They thought he wanted to be more entangled in Seeker courtship display and ritual? Ritual which they promised had once been just as integral to Decepticon culture, and would be again, or so Thundercracker's mission statement went.

He knew the responses. Acid Storm had often had old holo-dramas playing at the Bird Cage.

"Acknowledged," Barricade ground out. "I acknowledge your intention." Why? He disdained tradition, authority, all of it. So why was his HUD a virtual veil of running emotional subroutines, archaic protocols requiring activation, and minor damage warnings?  The Leader of all nearby Decepticons takes a knee and says he wants to be _family_?

Barricade could see the distortion of heat transfer radiating from TC's spires. He lifted a hand, without actually daring to touch them. Had the AllSpark deigned to grant Thundercracker a specialized heat sink knowing his processor was going to strain to reconcile his fantastic ego with the unworthiness of reality all around him? Was enough to make a mech believe in some kind of intelligent design.

Thundercracker tipped his head to place his spires in Barricade's claws. His optic shutters irised closed. Fear? Trust? Barricade shifted sharp digits through the mass; it was stiff, but pliant and malleable under the combination of heat and force. Barricade auto-tracked the micro-expression that flickered across Thundercracker's lips. He could feel Barricade's touch.

"Barricade." He sang the name. It had that odd ring that came when Seekers used some obscure jargon that translation protocols only approximated. It still registered as Barricade's name, but it meant more than that. Mostly, the enforcement coding supplied, that Thundercracker was quite truly affected by his emotional subroutines.

Well, Barricade's HUD informed him he was no less out of his processor.

"Accepted. I accept your collective courtship."

"Cade,' Skywarp sighed.

'STATUS'  flashed across Barricade's heads-up display: 'IN COURTSHIP'.

"Excellent," Thundercracker said, quickly grasping all his customary public composure, He rose to his feet. "I will have vows from you, Sergeant. It should go without saying a leader so honorable as myself would never abuse rank to curry personal favor, so do not mistake it for military command when I say you will be mine. It would be ludicrous to surmise one so supremely capable, intelligent, and handsome as myself could fail to fulfill all your needs,"

"I'm the one who decides if you're worthy?" Barricade sassed. Things were already pretty ludicrous. "Flawless strategy, Sir."

"But is is not?" Thundercracker posed. "Slipstream had to get her skills somewhere." Was he serious? "I believe we are possibly late for a meeting we may be expected to attend," Thundercracker announced. He brushed past Barricade on his way to the door, accidentally - or with disguised purposefulness - flicking Barricade's right, upper tire so that his wheel spun.

Then Warp floated by, flashing a rather mischievous smirk. 

Barricade was in so much trouble (read: An exquisitely painful spark tease that would not end until _he_ agreed to vow permanent kinship).

Maybe Thundercracker's strategy wasn't so misplaced as his trust seemed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter is short length-wise. After discussing the matter, I feel maybe this is just the best breaking point. So, epilogue or something to sum-up? IDK if this will go for more chapters, or just lead into the existing sequel.


End file.
